Newton's Cradle
by Tori of Lorien
Summary: Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time. IronDad/SpiderSon whump
1. Chapter 1- Something Amiss

**Newton's Cradle**

 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit. I also do not own the lines from "Spider-Man: Homecoming" used in this chapter.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Rating** : T

 **Genre** : Drama/Angst

 **Characters** : Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Pepper Potts, Happy Hogan, Karen, Rhodey, Aunt May, Ned, plus more

 **Pairings** : Tony Stark/Pepper Potts

 **Author's Note** : Like a lot of you guys, I totally fell in love with this movie, with Peter, and with Tony's almost dad-like role for him. And the ideas for this story have been brewing for a while now, and I finally just had to write it. It's a **sequel** , of sorts, to my oneshot "Reasons", a gap-filler between _Civil War_ and _Homecoming_ that tackles how Tony and Pepper started getting back together before the end of Spider-Man. That one doesn't necessarily have to be read to understand and enjoy this one (I'm still not even sure how that story spawned this one, but here we are, lol) as I do a couple little throwbacks to important point in this one, but it does show more of how Tony and Pepper got to the point they are at here, as well as the mindset of Tony going into this story. The villain that I chose for this story is drawn from Marvel comics, particularly those around the _Civil War_ time arc, and while I researched said character, there will be some creative liberties taken with him to fit him into this story. That being said, it is an AU, so obviously, the events of _Homecoming_ will be drastically different, lol. Also, for those unsure of what the title is referring to, there's a picture of a Newton's cradle in the story picture; it's a toy/tool that's a pendulum of sorts, consisting of five balls hanging from strings, and if you lift and release one, the one on the opposite end will move. The purpose being to demonstrate the principle of the conservation of momentum, specifically when two objects collide. Also, quick shout-out to **HaloFin17** for all of her help in putting ideas together for this to make this story as angsty as it possibly could be. I love you, my twin! I love when our minds really get evil when planning out stories, haha. Also, muchas gracias to **CoffeeRanger** , who through all of her excitement about what's to come for this story, really pushed me to publish it (otherwise, it may have been sitting around for a while yet). I hope it lives up to your excitement about these angsty ideas that are in store for these characters, my friend! :-D All righty, so with all that in mind, here we go!

 _Chapter 1– Something Amiss_

No matter what she did, Pepper Potts couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

The day had started off normally enough. She'd been staying at the new Avengers facility in upstate New York as often as she could for the past couple of months when she wasn't out of town for work since she'd returned to help Tony Stark and Happy Hogan– particularly the latter– finish packing everything up at the Avengers Tower in the city to transfer over to the compound. As nice and spacious as this new place was, as was needed to house the new members of the team, she knew she was definitely going to miss the old one. It was twelve percent of her baby after all, and really, she was proud of the place that she and Tony had been able to put together. There were plenty of memories there that she was glad to have, as well as some that weren't so great.

Though why she had returned in the first place still gave her somewhat of a cause for concern. She thought back to the voicemails she'd since deleted that'd she'd gotten from the billionaire during the whole mess of the Sokovia Accords, to when Steve Rogers went off on his own, to when one of his best friends had nearly died, and, finally, to when he'd learned another of his most trusted friends had been keeping the truth about his parents' deaths from him. He had just sounded so exhausted, so defeated, so _lost_ that she knew she couldn't stay away any longer. Though they had been taking a break to just get a little space, which they both had agreed would be the best thing for them at the time because of all the strain being put on the relationship from Tony's Avenging, she knew where she had to be was where he was. Because, she reasoned, he'd needed a friend. A friend to ease his mind a bit from the chaos that was otherwise threatening to consume him as everything he knew crumbled around him. No one could take the weight of that alone.

And so that's exactly what she had been to him in the weeks that followed her return. They weren't back to where they had once been before, not by a long shot, but a friend, someone that could be counted on, was good to have. And she had to admit she liked where whatever this was between them was headed as Tony's demeanor considerably lightened and became less weary at the world the more time they spent together at the new facility or at the Tower. The friendship they were rediscovering was certainly a pleasant one, as well as one that, in some ways, felt closer than what they'd had before they started out on their long-term relationship last time. And she couldn't deny that her feelings for Tony were still there. Almost nine years was quite a while to love someone, after all, and that didn't just go away. Perhaps this no pressure situation for them could be exactly what they needed to rekindle what had once been there, that had been there even before what had happened in Afghanistan, and what she felt was still there, patiently waiting for them.

At least, that's what she hoped, though she was almost certain she wasn't the only one.

He first indication had been that morning when Tony had surprised her by suggesting they go out to catch a quick breakfast, just the two of them for no real reason other than to spend some time together away from work, before they headed out to the Tower to organize more things to move to the new facility, and she had readily agreed. Some time away from it all would be good for them, they'd reasoned, and they'd ended up staying at the restaurant for a couple hours longer than they'd planned just talking, laughing, and having an overall good time. She was pretty sure that they'd wind up on a couple of internet rumor blogs since it was the first time they'd been seen together out in public in quite some time, but she didn't care. The outing had been effortless, just as they had used to be. And that was the only thing that mattered to her.

Though they'd only gotten a couple hours' worth of packing interspersed with continuing their conversation from breakfast when Tony received an alert from his AI F.R.I.D.A.Y. about something happening on the Staten Island Ferry that he was, needless to say, not overly thrilled with. Pepper wasn't familiar with every detail, but she could gather from what she'd been told that Peter Parker, the enthusiastic kid and friendly neighborhood Spider-Man that Tony was mentoring, had somehow hacked the incredibly expensive suit that the billionaire had made for him and overridden the training wheels program he'd still had to pass and had gone after some bad guys with powerful alien tech-based weapons on his own. She knew that Tony had been looking into the teen's claims pretty extensively himself ever since he had first been told about this group of arms dealers since he'd explicitly told him to let them handle it, managed to somewhat simply track some of their whereabouts, and passed the information along to the FBI to handle. Like the shipment they were trying to transfer on the ferry that day, for example.

But Peter hadn't gotten the memo, and furious that the kid was going behind his back to try to handle something he had specifically told him _not_ to do, and after a phone call that had _not_ ended well, Tony prepared to leave.

 _"He hung up on me! And lied to my face! Can you believe that? That's what happens when I try to compliment people... And, you know, try to tell him that I got this issue he's been telling me about all handled nicely. Now he's going to ruin that operation, and his reckless actions are going to get himself or someone else killed. I can't have that."_

 _Pepper sighed. "Of course not," she agreed in a hopefully placating tone. "Though please try to remember not to be too hard on the kid. After all, Tony, he's just that. A kid. He's what, fourteen or fifteen? You made some pretty stupid decisions at that age, too, don't forget. And when you were older."_

 _Tony didn't acknowledge the slight, good-natured jab at him as he instead sighed and passed a tired hand over his face. Pepper couldn't_ not _think that she was almost looking at an image of a stressed father in that moment. It was strange for her to see._

 _"That may be," he said. "But I'd hoped he wouldn't..." He paused, meeting her gaze with a defeated one of his own. "I won't be_ too _tough, deal? But I still gotta stop him from getting himself or someone else hurt_ and _get his ass out of there. And make him understand that this isn't the way to go about things. Like, at all."_

 _Pepper smiled as she approached him, straightening out his dark suit jacket a bit before she leaned forward and wrapped her arms lightly around him. "Come back soon, okay?" she wondered. "We still have quite a bit of packing to do."_

 _A hint of a smile appeared on Tony's face as he pulled her closer, resting his head against the side of hers. Though they still weren't back to where they had been before, he was still just as determined to do better by her, especially considering how much she did for him just by being a presence in his life again. Though this friendship they were reforming certainly suited him well enough for now. At least they were back on friendly terms. Close terms. He could be happy with that._

 _"Fair deal," he muttered. "Just gotta make sure the kid's okay and everyone on that ferry is all right... Let's hope, anyway. I can't have that on my conscience."_

 _Pepper briefly tightened the hug before she pulled back a bit to meet his gaze, and she was slightly startled to see just how close their faces were. It wouldn't take much to close the distance between them as they had done countless times before, and she was almost tempted to do so again, even though she felt she wasn't_ quite _ready for that. At least, not quite yet. Even so, she found it to be a familiar, comfortable proximity. "I'm holding you to that," she replied just as quietly, lightly poking his chest. "And remember, don't be overly hard on him. He's doing what he's doing because he feels like he has something to prove to you. You know how that feels."_

 _Tony's smile broadened, and Pepper felt a slight warmth swell in her chest. It was the one smile that truly touched his eyes– a look only she ever got to see. "No sweat, Peps. I'll be gone so short a time you won't even have a chance to miss me."_

 _Pepper chuckled. "Better get moving then, Iron Man."_

 _The billionaire continued to gaze back at her for a moment longer, and Pepper thought she could see a similar conflict raging in his hazel eyes. The urge to just easily close that small gap that lingered between them like they often did without even thinking battling the desire to not rush into things so he wouldn't risk losing the progress they'd already made. For an instant, she believed he was going to go along with the former, and she wasn't overly surprised that part of her really wanted him to._

 _Instead, he nodded once and securely patted her shoulder before he released her and began to walk away. Though slightly disappointed, Pepper knew it had been the right decision at this point. "Be back shortly!" he assured her, sending her a quick wave. "After having a talk with this kid..."_

 _And just like that, he was gone in a familiar flash of red and gold._

Sighing, she turned back to the phone she'd been holding, forcing her eyes to focus on the email displayed on the screen. Despite herself, a small smile appeared on her face when her gaze once again landed on the few pictures of the small shih tzu that were attached.

One of the things Pepper had noticed quickly since she had decided to once again be a part of her ex-boyfriend's life was that his underlying anxiety issues were still very prevalent. There had been nights while she stayed at the compound when she had caught Tony awake until the early hours of the morning, tinkering with something or other in order to keep himself from sleeping. It was so reminiscent of the time when they had lived together in their own home, that how no matter how often she'd gently tried to coax him to come to bed with her, he more often than not wouldn't. And the nights he gave in and did were the ones that were often haunted by nightmares. Seeing it there, still so plain, broke her heart.

He had spent so much time running from what he had endured eight years before, had made so much effort to avoid processing what he had felt during those three hellish months in captivity, that what she wanted for him more than anything in the world was to find a place where he could just stop to rest. During the years they were together, she had hoped that place could be her– from the moment she had waited for him to step off the plane when he had returned to the States, she had wanted nothing more than to make him feel like he didn't have to run anymore if she could just hold onto him tightly enough, to make him feel like he was safe. And for the most part, she felt as though she had been able to give him that, even though she wasn't quite sure how he could be completely safe while he continued to put on the Iron Man suit. Though that was probably one of the reasons he had continued to put on the suit, she reasoned– to be able to keep running when stopping and resting just wasn't a viable option. His near-death experience bringing a nuclear bomb through a wormhole certainly hadn't helped that underlying panic that always seemed to be right beneath the surface. In fact, that was when he had developed full-blown anxiety attacks, ones that would often affect him physically and made him even admit that the only reason he hadn't completely cracked was because she was with him. It was a time that had tested their relationship surely, especially when she had nearly been attacked by one of his suits after he inadvertently called for it in his sleep in the middle of a nightmare, but they had gotten through. And had come out stronger for it. When Aldrich Killian, someone Tony had completely blown off years before, had injected her with the dangerous substance Extremis to force the billionaire's hand and make him desperate enough to help him make it more stable, that hadn't helped him either. She'd often caught him dwelling over how he had let it happen in the first place, as well as waking from nightmares about missing her hand when she fell two-hundred feet to what would have been her death in the flames below if she hadn't had Extremis in her veins, even long after he had gotten her sorted out and back to normal. But she had stayed by his side the entire time. They had, once again, gotten through. And had, again, come out stronger for it.

Until she couldn't take it anymore. And she walked out the door, leaving him behind.

Pepper sighed to herself, knowing that hadn't helped Tony's state of mind in the least. And she was afraid that the complicated altercation with Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, and the latter's involvement in the death of his parents while she had been gone was only going to set the billionaire back a few more steps. If she could take back how she had left him then, to somehow prevent the heartbreak that had followed, she would have in a heartbeat.

But she had made progress with him before, and she felt as though she could again. Even if they were just friends at the moment, she still wanted to help him through and knew she probably could. Because after a couple years and some Stark Industries-mandated professional therapy, Tony had finally, albeit randomly, opened up to her about what had happened while he had been held captive by the Ten Rings in Afghanistan while they were lying in bed together during a night where his mind wouldn't shut up about it. As horrified as she had been by the account, beginning with being kept alive only by the car battery hooked up to the electromagnet in his chest to keep the shrapnel centimeters away from his heart at bay to everything that had come after, she had somehow managed to keep herself together, willing to give him what strength she could as she held his hand tightly while all he had felt during that time came pouring out of him through frantic words and broken tears. It had been one of the only times she could count on one hand that she had seen him cry in all the years she had known him, and it was a night that she had never brought up again. It had been difficult enough for him to experience at the time, she knew. No use subjecting him to the fact that he could be human if he wanted to be again.

Though after that night, after starting that journey with him to walk him through what he had suffered while in captivity, Pepper was confident she could handle what had happened between him and Steve, even with the tragic event that had caused it.

Though after every incident that had exacerbated that panic he constantly lived with though normally repressed, she had been there to make sure he didn't start running again, to hold him to make sure he, at least, didn't go too far. It was one of the main reasons she had come back after Tony's voicemails about Steve and learning about what had truly happened to his parents, after all. She had recognized by how his voice had broken that he was set to start running again, and she just couldn't have that after all she had done to try to settle him before. So she had come back.

And while she could see that anxiety was still something he privately struggled with as he tried to come to terms with the fallout he and Steve had had, it had seemed to ease a bit over the past couple of months that she had been around. As they continued to inch their way closer back to where they had once been, she could see more and more subtle improvements by the day. Breakfast that morning, for example, had been the closest she had seen him to being the Tony Stark she knew so well and had fallen so madly in love with since before she had left in the first place. That combined with how he had been mentoring Peter, which gave him something to really focus on, seemed to be doing him a world of good, and it continued to give her hope that he would pull through this dark place as he had before. She could see that the kid was helping Tony as much as he was helping him, even if the billionaire couldn't see it himself. And for that, she was grateful that Peter was around, as well as one of the reasons why she hadn't wanted Tony to be too tough on the teen for whatever had happened down by the ferry.

But now that she was back, Pepper couldn't see the harm in trying to find more ways to try to help Tony maintain and even counteract his post traumatic stress disorder that he so vigilantly tried to hide from everyone else. Which was how she had wound up in this email conversation in the first place.

About a week before, a friend of a friend of a friend on Facebook had posted that he was looking for a foster home for a one-year-old shih tzu named Lily (serious inquiries only). Apparently, the couple had tried to get her as a new addition to their happy little family, but their young son had turned out to be allergic, or something. Normally, Pepper wouldn't have bothered, but there had been something in the small, white and black fluffball's eyes– the pink bow in her fur didn't hurt, either– that had touched her heart. Knowing that dogs could be very therapeutic for people who suffered from what Tony did, she, on a whim, sent an email to the one the man had provided to ask for more information.

Jerry had been delighted to hear from her, and he gladly answered any questions about the little dog that she had. And the more she learned about her, the more she became convinced that she and Tony were a match made in dog foster care heaven. Lily, she had discovered, was a rescue they had adopted from a shelter. During her short life, she had faced many traumas from a past abusive owner who had basically been stuck with her after his dog had had puppies. She had never been wanted or loved, along with the rest of her siblings, and she had luckily been found before her owner could do too much damage to any of them. The couple had been told when they adopted her that she would need some special TLC since she had grown very depressed and developed some signs of anxiety due to the time spent with her prior owner. They hated giving her up since she needed a secure environment, but since she couldn't be around their son, they knew it would be better to have her in a caring place until a stable, loving home could be found for her instead of returning her to the shelter.

Two damaged, traumatized souls in need of love. Pepper couldn't have written anything better if she'd tried.

She had inquired further about her personality mixing with someone who had similar anxiety problems, already invested hook, line, and sinker in the story of this sweet little dog. But she knew no matter her feelings about her, a high-energy companion that needed a ton of attention probably wouldn't have been the best for Tony. He'd assured her that it should be fine– Lily, usually, had a very calm temperament and normally didn't bark a lot. She had her playful streaks every once in a while if she was comfortable, but she really only played alone with her toys for a little bit before finding a place to either stretch out or curl up. She was pretty easy maintenance as well, eating when she was hungry– aside from the occasional begging for whatever others were eating– and only needing a couple walks a day on the owner's time schedule. It often took her a little while to warm up to new people, but she was friendly since she didn't bite or anything.

But it was when he had told her that what Lily mainly loved to do was cuddle that Pepper had undoubtedly been sold, and she'd sent an email expressing her interest in meeting the couple as well as the little fluffball herself to see if they would be a good fit. She hadn't hesitated even though she hadn't had the chance to run the idea past Tony, but she wasn't worried. She was meaning it more as a surprise to help him, anyway. Besides, if he wasn't overly thrilled about having Lily around, she could say that she was the one fostering her and that it would only be a temporary arrangement until a permanent home could be found. He couldn't deny her that, and if it came to it, she'd always figured out ways to make him come around before.

Unless they utterly fell in love with her, that would be another story altogether.

Though as excited as she was about this idea, Pepper found she had a hard time focusing on the latest email Jerry had sent her, asking if that coming Wednesday would be a good time for the meeting. It was two days away. She forced herself to check her calendar, seeing that she had a short presentation for Stark Industries that morning– one that could easily be done via Skype like she normally did so she wouldn't have to leave town– but the rest of the day was free. With a smile, she sent her response, asking if sometime in the late afternoon or early evening would be okay with them.

But then, the cheerful look faded as she lowered her phone. That pesky sense of dread she just couldn't seem to shake over the past few minutes was still stubbornly hanging on tight. Her brow furrowed, uncertain of where it could possibly be coming from. But she knew something was wrong.

Pepper glanced down at her phone, her slender fingers trembling ever so slightly as she, for a brief moment, considered calling Tony to see how things were going with the kid. However, she quickly talked herself out of it, even as she brought up the billionaire's personal number– one that only she and a scarce couple other people had– in her contacts. She didn't want to distract him from whatever may have been happening with Peter, for she didn't know what sort of situation the web-slinger may have gotten himself into. Nor did she want to interrupt whatever conversation they may have been having since that was more important than whatever this was that she was feeling. She chided herself for making a big deal out of what was most likely nothing. She just had to get a grip.

But still, it was unsettling to her, and Pepper pushed herself up from the couch and wandered over to the large windows that overlooked the bustling city far below. As far as she could tell from her vantage point, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Not that that really meant anything...

Then, she jumped when her phone vibrated in her hand, and she attempted to slow her racing heart as she quickly checked the screen. She let out a shaky breath when she realized it was just a text from Happy Hogan, informing her that he was on his way to the Tower to help them with some more packing. She really had to calm down.

But it was the second part of their former limo driver and current head of security's text that really stood out to her.

 _Hey, what's up with Tony? He busy or something? He hasn't been responding to my texts, even though he told me to tell him when I was on the way._

A bigger part of her than she would have liked went cold when that lingering dread threatened to climb up further still. But she forced it back down. Tony _was_ busy, she reminded herself, either getting Peter out of some sort of jam or chastising him for getting into one in the first place since he hadn't listened to him. And Happy would have no way of knowing that, of course.

Shaking her head slightly at how ridiculous and jumpy she was being, Pepper began to type back this information before she paused when something out of the corner of her eye grabbed her attention. She slowly lowered her phone, her eyes growing slightly wider as she hurried down to the other end of the windows to get closer. She pressed herself against the panes to get a better look.

Her breath instantly caught in her chest.

Thick, black smoke was quickly billowing into the air from the direction of the New York Harbor, where the Staten Island Ferry made port, in the distance. Right where the billionaire had told her he was headed.

The feeling that something was wrong, _very wrong_ , returned with a vengeance.

"Tony..."

* * *

 _"Peter? Are you all right, Peter?"_

 _Was he okay?_

For a moment, Peter really wasn't so sure. That he was alive was a good sign, all things considered. But was everything intact? In one piece? He couldn't tell. Everything felt like it was spinning around him, his limbs were either numb or felt like lead or felt like they weren't even connected to the rest of his body, his head felt like it was going to split open at any second, his lungs felt like they were filled with feathers or cotton balls or something...

But he was alive. So he supposed that meant that he was okay. At least to some degree.

 _"Peter?"_ the friendly, and now familiar, electronic voice prompted again. She almost sounded gentle and concerned, which was slightly worrisome in its own right. Normally, she was all sass, like any good Tony Stark AI.

"Ka... Ka... Karen...?" Peter managed to rasp out before he cringed. His voice sounded like he hadn't used it in years, and his throat felt like he'd swallowed sheets of sandpaper whole. "What... what the he-hell... happened...?"

 _"There was an explosion,"_ Karen calmly informed him in her straightforward way. _"And you fell off a building. At least, off the side of it. You managed to get quite a bit of the way down before the force caused you to fall."_

Her words made no sense in the teen's ringing ears. Explosion? Falling off a building? What... That hadn't been what had happened...

Had it...? He couldn't remember... He would have remembered something like that, right...? Right?

"Ka-Karen... Are... are you sure... about that...?"

 _"Absolutely. I was there, too, Peter."_

Ah, _there_ was the sass. At least _she_ was okay.

"H-hey... hey, Ka-Karen...?"

 _"Yes, Peter?"_

"Is... is anything... y'know... broken? Because I'll ha-have to... explain this t-to Aunt May..."

 _"I ran a test when you were unconscious. Nothing is broken. I detected some lacerations and contusions. I do not detect a concussion, though I also have detected a bit of an abnormality in your brainwaves."_

 _That was it?_ Though he wasn't exactly sure if he fully believed the AI since his entire body felt like mush and his mind felt like it had been ripped out before being forcefully shoved back into his head, he trusted her scan enough to know that meant he wasn't dying, even though he felt like it since everything just _hurt_. And that was a good thing, if he did say so himself. Could never complain about that.

With a groan, Peter forced himself to open his eyes, which he noted took a lot more effort than it normally should have. The deepening blue sky seemed oddly bright above him, even though he found that he was looking through the fine mesh eyeholes of his suit. The ringing persisted in his ears as the teen slowly pushed himself up on one arm, his breathing heavy as every muscle in his body protested to the movement. As he raised his head and started to look around him, he was able to start to hear more sounds above the ringing in his head. Sirens, anxious voices, seagulls...

"... Karen...?"

 _"Yes, Peter?"_

"Where... where am I... exactly?"

 _"The Staten Island Ferry port, Manhattan."_

As his vision began to clear, Peter began to recognize the New York Harbor with its shimmering waves, boat docks, and even the Staten Island Ferry itself. The large orange vessel looked different, somehow, with some added attachments on the sides of the exterior and some light smoke rising from it.

 _The weapon shipment... the arms dealers... the FBI... the guy with wings... the ferry split in half... him straining to hold it together with his webbing..._

 _Had he been able to hold it together like that?_

 _Had anyone been hurt...?_

"Ka... Karen...?"

 _"Yes, Peter?"_ She sounded so patient with his continuous questions. At least she was giving him a bit of slack considering what he'd been through.

"Wh-what are we doing... here, exactly...?"

However, Peter frowned when this time, the AI took a bit longer to respond. "Karen...?"

 _"You were attempting to stop a shipment of alien tech-based weapons, which went wrong,"_ Karen finally explained. _"The ferry nearly drowned after being split in half. Mr. Stark arrived in time to piece it back together enough to prevent a catastrophe."_

 _Mr. Stark!_ "Oh, shit... Karen, he... he's going to be _furious_ about what happened wi-with the ferry..."

 _"He already was, Peter."_

The teen froze, letting her words sink in. "He... he was...?" he asked. "Karen, what... what do you mean...?"

 _"After Mr. Stark repaired the ferry, he found you nearby,"_ Karen answered. _"He was not happy, Peter."_

Peter swallowed nervously. He could vaguely remember sitting on the roof of a building on the edge of the harbor overlooking the ferry, watching as the panicked passengers were helped off to solid ground. He vaguely remembered the Iron Man suit appearing... "And... and then what...?" Had Tony actually been in the suit this time? He couldn't quite remember...

 _"Look above you, forty-five degrees behind you to your right."_

Wincing, Peter turned his stiff neck in the direction the AI had instructed, and his eyes widened as his stomach dropped.

The very building he vaguely remembered sitting on was in flames and collapsing in parts, thick black smoke billowing into the air. Fire trucks, rescue squads, police cars, and news vans were gathered up and down the street, blocking it off. Though it hadn't stopped curious onlookers from gathering to see what had happened. Well, that's where the siren sounds were coming from, and would also explain why his sinuses were burning so badly...

It was also then he noticed that in his attempt to get off the building, the combination of the force from the blast and his webs had managed to propel him far enough away from the scene to where he had landed amid some crates closer to the harbor, where he was out of sight from all emergency personnel and civilians. Which would explain why, despite how he was in full blue and red Spider-Man garb, no one was paying him any attention.

That and there was a building on fire and falling apart.

 _"Is everyone okay?"_

 _"No thanks to you."_

His own words, followed by Tony's almost patronizing tone came rushing back to him then, and he took a sharp intake of breath, causing a coughing fit to rack his whole skinny frame.

 _"Are you all right, Peter?"_

"I-I... I'm fine, Ka-Karen..." Peter managed to say between hacking his lungs out. When the fit finally stopped, he tried to take a few deep breaths to clear his head even further. Yes, he remembered he had gotten into an argument with the Iron Man suit since he was just so frustrated about being treated like a kid by the man he looked up to who was supposed to be teaching him to be a part of the Avengers team. He was so angry that just because he was fifteen, his words meant nothing.

 _"Those weapons were out there, and I tried to to tell you about it, but you didn't listen. None of this would have happened if you'd just listened to me! If you even cared, you'd actually be here."_

Did Tony even care about him? He had been getting to a point where he wasn't even sure about that, and as his mind frantically attempted to sort through his fuzzy memories, he still wasn't sure... But then... he had gotten in the suit's face in his anger, and... wait, the suit had opened... and Tony _had_ been there... He said he had listened, had called the FBI, and...

 _"Do you know that I was the only one who believed in you? Everyone else said I was crazy to recruit a fourteen-year-old kid..."_

 _"What if somebody had died tonight? Different story, right? Cause that's on_ you _. And if you died... I think that's on me. I don't need that on my conscience."_

 _"I just... I just wanted to be like you."_

 _"And I wanted you to be better."_

Peter tried to ignore how his already difficult breathing caught in his chest as his already distorted vision began to swim when tears pricked his eyes and threatened to spill out. The heated discussion with his mentor was all starting to come back to him now. Tony had been there... Tony had _cared_... Believed in him, even. Wanted him to be a better person than he himself had ever been. That's why he had been pushing him. Hell, he'd even been helping him with those arms dealers all along, having called in the right people to handle the situation without him even knowing. He had believed him about everything that he had seen, even though he'd accused the billionaire of not listening, of not caring. And he had screwed up _royally_. There was no way Tony would ever come to respect him as a part of the team, as an equal, now. No matter how much he had tried to apologize, it didn't matter. Because Tony had been right. What _if_ people had died because of his stupidity? He never would have been able to live with himself if that had happened. Never.

And...

 _"I'm going to need the suit back."_

 _"For how long...?"_

 _"Forever."_

 _"You don't understand. This is all I have. I'm nothing without this suit!"_

 _"If you're nothing without the suit, then you shouldn't have it. God, I sound like my dad..."_

He couldn't think of a way to describe the panic that had threatened to overcome him when Tony had wanted to take the suit back. It was a part of him, it was what made him _him_. There was no way he could give up something that was so important to him, that defined him. It gave his life purpose.

But at the same time, Peter understood. With as badly as he had messed everything up, he didn't deserve the suit. He didn't deserve to be a part of the team. He didn't deserve to be Spider-Man. As difficult as that was to accept, he knew deep down that it was true. What had Tony said? If he was nothing without it, then he shouldn't have it.

Although...

Peter glanced down at his gloved hands. He still had the suit. So, had Tony changed his mind about him keeping it? For some reason, that didn't strike him as plausible. He didn't think that the man would change his mind quite that quickly about something so crucial. So... had the explosion had something to do with why he still had it...? Had he needed it to fight whatever had happened...? He had clearly used it to get to safety...

He strained his memory, trying to recall what had happened after the billionaire's off-handed dad comment, but... there was nothing. His mind was blank. It was like nothing existed in his brain from after Tony had said those words to when he had woken up where he was. It was starting to hurt his head to try to force his mind to cooperate, so with frustration, Peter stopped. He'd give it a little time, try to clear his mind a bit more, get straightened up a bit, maybe get something to eat. It would all come back... wouldn't it?

But that also left another very important question. _Where was Tony?_ Shouldn't he have been there with him...? Unless he was talking to the police or the reporters...?

"Ka... Karen...?" Peter cleared his throat as he forced his tears back. No use crying yet when nothing was seriously wrong at the moment.

 _"Yes, Peter?"_ Maybe he was just imagining it because he wanted to hear it, but he thought he could detect sympathy in her voice this time.

"Can... can you call... Mr. Stark...?" he asked quietly. "Please...?"

 _"I am unable to call Mr. Stark,"_ came Karen's prompt reply.

It took Peter a moment to process what she had said. "Wait, what? Why?" he pressed. "Karen, this... this is important! You need to call Mr. Stark!"

 _"I am unable to call Mr. Stark,"_ Karen repeated. _"The call will automatically reroute to Happy Hogan. Would you like me to put the call through?"_

"No, Karen!" Peter snapped. Happy wasn't the one he needed to talk to at the moment. He needed Tony. But then, he sighed. "Sorry, I didn't mean that... I'm just... I need to know what happened, and Happy doesn't know that. So, I... I need to talk to Mr. Stark... It's important..."

A moment passed where the AI remained silent. Peter wondered if he'd actually somehow hurt Karen's feelings with his brief attitude. He didn't even know if that was possible– _could_ Karen have feelings? She wasn't exactly human– but he certainly hadn't meant to if he had. Wondering if she was as picky and tough to please as her creator, he was just beginning to think of ways that he could express how bad he felt about losing his cool with her in a quick lapse in judgment since a simple "sorry" apparently wasn't going to cut it when her voice echoed in his ears again.

 _"I am unable to reach Mr. Stark."_

Wait, that was different wording. "You... you're sure you tried to reach hi-him...?" Peter wondered nervously. "On all numbers... anything...?"

 _"Yes. I have been attempting to since you have been unconscious, as I am automatically programmed to alert Mr. Stark if any injuries you receive are significant. He would normally be calling by now to check on you if I had reached him successfully."_

Though Karen didn't sound concerned, her answer, while mostly going over his head with as hazy as his mind was, caused dread to fill the teen. Something wasn't right. "A-and...?"

 _"I am unable to reach Mr. Stark,"_ Karen stated yet again. _"His personal phone seems to have been disconnected, and he is not answering any others."_

 _Disconnected...?_ Hadn't Tony called him shortly before all hell had broken loose on the ferry? Yes, he vaguely remembered getting a call from the billionaire, even though he had explicitly told the AI that it wasn't a good time to take it. Apparently, a call from Tony was something she couldn't turn down. The man had tried to compliment him on a job well done... and what had he done in return? Gone behind his back, lied to his face, and screwed up everything. Man, he was a horrible student, no wonder Tony wanted his suit back. He could give it to someone else who deserved it more than he did.

But had that been his personal number? He wasn't sure how many numbers the man had to reach different people. Either way, it didn't settle well with Peter that Tony's personal phone, which he assumed the billionaire had been carrying on his person, was suddenly disconnected like Karen said. Something was wrong about that, he could sense it. Had the explosion...

Peter's eyes widened at the thought of the inferno raging on the building behind him. "Oh, God... Karen, can you, like, I don't know..." His dizzy mind frantically sought any solutions to this mess. "Can... can you, like, reach Mr. Stark's AI, or... or something...? His suit has one, right? Can... can you, like... track it...?" His voice trailed off pathetically as his raw throat protested to the amount of talking.

Again, his AI was silent for a while. Peter's heart raced anxiously as his dread continued to grow as the seconds crawled by, not liking the amount of time it was taking for Karen to find Tony's suit. The building wasn't too far away. If he was talking to the police or the reporters like he had initially thought, she should have found him by now...

For a moment, he wondered if Karen herself knew what had happened after the argument between him and Tony when the latter had demanded the suit back permanently, and when he had desperately tried to keep it. He hadn't been wearing his mask at the time, so it was hard to say for sure. He'd have to make it a point to ask her, but for now, his head was too heavy to hold it up any longer, much less to really think about much of anything. Peter slowly lowered his upper body back to the ground to rest, closing his eyes and holding his breath as he waited anxiously for what the AI had to say.

 _Please, Karen... please find Mr. Stark... please let him be okay..._

However, he didn't really like what his senses were telling him.

 _"I am unable to find Mr. Stark."_

Even though he had braced himself for the worst, actually hearing the words caused fear to seize his whole body. "Wh-what?" Peter's head shot up as he quickly turned to look up at the burning building again. But he winced when a sharp pain pierced his temples, causing the world around him to spin even more, and he groaned as he lowered his head back to the ground.

 _"You have to be careful until you're a bit more healed up, Peter."_

"Ye-yeah, Ka-Karen, I'm... I'm aware..." The teen curled his hand into a fist before he pounded the ground as hard as he could next to him. He attempted to take slower, even breaths, but knowing that Tony was MIA wasn't settling his nerves any. "You... you can't find Mr. Stark...? But... but what about his AI...?"

 _"I am unable to track his suit's AI,"_ Karen said with an almost placating tone. Or, so it sounded like to him. _"It is a possibility that it has been damaged to a point where I am unable to track it."_

 _Damaged...?_ How badly did the suit have to be damaged for Karen not to be able to find it...? Peter's heart began to beat painfully against his ribs. He immediately knew he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer to his unspoken question. Had Tony been... No, he couldn't bring himself to think it. He squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could, but all he could see was the building in flames and crumbling into ruin not too far away. Tony _couldn't_ have been caught in that explosion... he just couldn't have been... He was Iron Man... He _had_ to be okay...

 _"Heart rate is increasing, as is respiratory level,"_ Karen informed him.

Peter almost chuckled out loud at her observation but couldn't find the strength to do so as he tried to slow down his panicked breathing. "I... I know, Karen..." There had to be some sort of other explanation for why Tony's suit AI couldn't be traced. It didn't have to mean the worst case scenario...

 _"Is there anything I can do for you to ease your distress, Peter?"_ Karen asked, her concern seemingly returning.

The teen took a deep, mostly even breath as tears again began to form behind his closed eyes. He just felt so _tired_ all of a sudden... "Uh... y-yeah..." he finally answered quietly. "Can... can you call... H-Happy...?"

 _"Calling Happy Hogan."_

The phone began to ring, but the sound began to get drowned out by the resurgence of the ringing in his ears. Peter sighed, feeling as though his body was beginning to simply melt into the concrete beneath him with how leaden it felt. What happened on the ferry with the guy with wings... the argument with Tony... the explosion... what could have happened to Tony... It all felt so surreal to him. Could any of this have even been real...? He wasn't sure...

 _"Hello? Kid? Are you there? Peter?"_

Happy's familiar voice surrounded him then, and the teen found himself almost crying in relief that the man had actually answered him this time. Thank goodness for small favors. He swallowed, willing himself to respond.

"H-hey... Ha-Happy..." he mumbled.

The man's concern was palpable. _"Kid! What's wrong? Kid!"_

But that was all Peter found he was able to say before he wasn't aware of anything at all.

 **Author's Note** : So, that's it for this one! What happened on top of that building in that fateful argument? What's wrong with Peter? And where's Tony? We'll have to find out as we keep going! Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it! See you next time!


	2. Chapter 2- Where There's Smoke

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Hey, guys! Thank you for all the favorites, follows, and reviews for this story, it means a lot! In response to **soup** : Nope, no worries, you didn't sound rude at all! Thank you so much for your kind words! :-) I'm glad you enjoyed the first chapter so much! As I'm glad that everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed did! With that said, here's chapter two! I hope you guys like it just as much!

 _Chapter 2– Where There's Smoke, There's Fire (Or, "Happy Hogan Really Hates Traffic Jams")_

"Kid! What's wrong? Kid!"

Pepper hardly heard Happy behind her as she continued to stare at the thick, black smoke billowing toward the sky from the direction of New York Harbor with wide eyes and bated breath. His anxious tone while talking to who he'd mentioned was Peter only fueled the dread she'd been feeling all along. It filled her with a pang of cold fear she couldn't explain. Something was _very_ wrong, she had no doubt about it.

Slowly, she raised a slightly trembling hand and placed it lightly on her chest. Over her heart. The dull pain she felt there throbbed beneath her fingertips in time with the thought that crossed her mind.

 _... Tony..._

"Kid! Damn it..." Happy quickly ended the call before dialing back, bringing the phone back to his ear as he restlessly began to pace. "Come on, Peter, answer..."

Her heart pounded a little faster.

 _... Oh, God... Tony..._

Finally, the head of security let out a frustrated breath as he slipped his phone back into the pocket of his suit jacket. "All right, Peps, I'm gonna head down to the harbor," he announced. "That's where you said they were, yes?"

At this, Pepper tore her gaze from all that smoke and turned away from the window. "Y-yeah," she said, her voice faltering slightly. She paused and cleared her throat, lowering her hand before continuing. "I'm coming with you."

Happy gave her a sad look of understanding. "I can't let you do that, Peps," he replied with a shake of his head. The action took a little more effort than he was used to under the weight of her dismayed gaze. "The kid's hurt, and I don't know what happened... I can't take a chance and put you in harm's way like that, not when I don't know what I'm walking into. Tony would have you fire me and then _kill_ me himself if I did that. Literally, too..."

Pepper walked away from the windows over to her friend, leaning against the back of one of the couches for support. She squarely met his gaze, putting every ounce of determination she could muster behind the look. She couldn't stay behind, she just _couldn't_... She was much too restless, for starters, and she knew she'd go crazy if she were forced to stay behind in the Tower just waiting for any news. How could he expect her to do that when...?

"Hap, please," she murmured. "I can't just sit here. Tony... Tony's out there, too..." Her voice rose a little. "I have to do something. I have to make sure he's okay."

However, Happy once again shook his head. "Sorry, I can't allow it," he told her, his voice firm. He reached out, grasping her arms securely yet gently. "Listen, Peps. We don't know what happened. All I know is it's gotta be something serious since Peter didn't sound too good, and he's a hell of a lot tougher than he looks. The kid can take a beating. What good would it do Tony if you showed up and got hurt, huh?"

Pepper looked back at him, struggling to try to come up with some sort of rebuttal but failing miserably. Her thoughts were just too scrambled.

A small, somber smile returned to Happy's face. "Look, I know you're worried about him, and you have every right to be," he continued, his tone softer now. "But you and I, we know better than pretty much everyone just how tough Tony is. Right? I'm sure he's fine. Hell, for all we know, he could already be taking the kid to the hospital, and we have nothing to worry about. And then he could show up here at any minute. And if you didn't stay here, then who'd be here for him when he did? Huh? And at least that way, I'd be the only stupid one running around like a chicken with his head cut off."

As much as she wanted to believe it to be true, a nagging part of her just wouldn't allow Pepper to accept this possibility. Something was _wrong_ , something was _very wrong_ , she could feel it in her gut. And honestly, she couldn't tell if he even believed what he was saying or not. "Happy..."

She was startled when the head of security suddenly pulled her into a bone-crushing hug, but she couldn't stop a thin line of tears from forming in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around him tightly, almost desperately, too. While the gesture had made her feel safe and secure in the past whenever she'd worried about Tony's well-being while he was out on a mission, and more notably while he'd been in captivity in Afghanistan for those three months, it didn't quite ease her fear this time.

"I'll be back soon, I promise," Happy assured her quietly, patting her tense back for emphasis. "And I also promise to report to you with anything I find out, as soon as I find it out. But you've gotta do the same, okay? I won't leave you hanging, but you can't leave me hanging, either. Deal?"

Not knowing what else she could do, Pepper nodded. Her restlessness was still screaming at her to leave along with Happy, to go find out what had happened down at the ferry. But deep down, she also knew that if something had actually happened, there wasn't much she could do about it, and she'd only risk getting in the way. As much as she hated to admit it, it was probably better that she did stay behind...

But if she received any indication that Tony needed her to be there for any reason whatsoever, she also knew she'd be out the door in a heartbeat.

"Okay." Happy slowly released her, his smile broadening when he saw that Pepper was trying to give him a similar look, even though it didn't come close to reaching her eyes. "Hang in there, Peps. I'll be back as quickly as I can, and I'll keep you informed of whatever I find out."

"Be careful, Hap," Pepper said, though there wasn't much feeling in the words. She watched as Happy hurried across the room to the elevator and stepped inside, once again pulling out his phone and scrolling through his contacts as the doors slid closed.

Feeling as though her strength was being sapped from her, she walked around the couch before sinking into its cushions, shutting her eyes tightly for a moment as she rested her head on the back of it behind her. She let out a long breath she hadn't realized she had been holding, unable to rid her mind of the image of that thick, black smoke...

Until the look Tony had given her shortly before he had left steadily replaced it. That smile that seemed to be reserved just for her, the one that truly touched those hazel eyes she loved so much and made them glow with warmth.

But his sharp visage was gone as quickly as it had appeared, engulfed in that suffocating smoke.

Pepper gasped as her eyes snapped open, her racing heart causing her to sit up straight on the couch. She glanced down at her phone before her fingers seemed to move on their own accord, going into her contacts until they reached Tony's number and hit the green call icon. She gazed at the picture that popped up for a second. It was one of him that had always been one of her favorites, a candid shot that she had happened to capture on one of their many casual dinner dates when they had been together. He was leaning forward a bit with his chin resting in his palm, supported by his elbow on the table. He'd been looking out the window, his gaze faraway since he'd been deep in thought, yet there was a hint of a smile, and what could have been laughter, in his calm, content eyes as though the place his thoughts had taken him to at the time had been a pleasant one. Perhaps even one of his favorites.

To that day, she didn't know what Tony had been thinking about when she'd snuck the picture since she'd never asked, despite how undeniably curious she was. She felt like she'd be trespassing on something that solely belonged to him if she did, though, and plus, she wasn't even sure if he knew she'd taken the picture in order to preserve that serene, carefree expression. It was enough just to be able to see it on her phone's screen, as it wasn't a look she saw in him overly often.

Pepper quickly brought the phone to her ear, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she waited for the voice she wanted to hear more than any other at that moment. Her other hand clenched into a fist on her lap.

Instead of the familiar tone laced with sarcasm, however, all she heard was dead air space.

Her dread returning tenfold, Pepper ended the call and lowered the phone before she turned around on the couch to look back at the windows, able to see the smoke even though she couldn't from her vantage point since it was so imprinted on her memory.

 _... Tony..._

* * *

All he got was dead air space.

Happy muttered curses under his breath as he lowered the phone and smacked the steering wheel once. The usual pain in the ass traffic was even worse than normal the closer he got to the harbor. He was almost at a complete standstill. And worse yet, he couldn't reach his former employer and best friend.

Something was most definitely wrong, he was beginning to feel it himself. Just like he'd seen that fear in Pepper's eyes before he'd left.

Continuing to grumble under his breath, Happy impatiently leaned against the horn in effort to get the cars in front of him to _move_ , even though he knew it wouldn't do any good, though the sound got drowned out by all the other horns that were blaring around him as all commuters were forced to a complete halt while officers attempted to get everyone detoured in the most organized way possible a couple blocks ahead.

This wasn't going to work, the head of security of Stark Industries thought to himself. Not when he had a potentially injured teen to find, as well as to figure out what the hell had happened to his boss' ex-boyfriend. As was his job.

Nope, this wasn't going to work at all.

"I'm so going to demand a raise..."

Happy glanced in the rearview mirror, flipping on his turn signal as his hands tightened around the wheel. He waited patiently, at least as patiently as he could, for a few minutes until he spotted his slim window of opportunity. And, with the knowledge that lives could be on the line if he didn't move while he had the chance, he took it.

Taking a deep breath, he turned the wheel as far as he could to the right and pushed down hard on the gas, swerving into the next lane over in a move that probably broke quite a few traffic laws and ended up cutting off a very impatient driver who had been trying to take that very spot. Happy allowed himself a small smile as horns blared around him, simply turning up the seventies rock radio station to drown them out. He drummed his fingers on the wheel in time to the beat as he eyed his next destination– the road up ahead running perpendicular to the one he was on that _wasn't_ being used as the detour that he was frankly surprised only a couple other people were using as an escape route from this traffic jam from hell. He inched forward as the line before him did, and finally deciding that he was _close enough_ , he once again swerved the wheel as far as it'd go to the right and floored it. More horns blared as he managed to turn onto the street all right, but he cursed heatedly when he jumped the curb more than he'd intended. Thankfully, his car sounded okay, and the police were too busy directing traffic and blocking off the direct path to the harbor to take much notice of his potentially reckless driving.

And at least now he was _moving_. Not very fast since he was still in typical New York City traffic, but anything was better than the complete standstill he had just gotten out of. Considering he was faced with a possible emergency and had some sort of crisis on his hands, that was the best he could ask for now.

Unfortunately, it appeared as though he wouldn't be able to get much closer to the harbor itself than he already was, as the police had done a fine job of setting up a perimeter. Happy didn't blame them, of course, as it was the best thing to do to keep everyone safe. Now that he was closer, he'd been very concerned to see that the top of the building that overlooked the Staten Island Ferry port was engulfed in flames, causing the thick black smoke that seemed to cover this entire area of the city. Firefighters were already working hard to combat it, but even he knew that it was going to take a long time to contain, and ultimately extinguish, it. And counting clean up efforts and searching for the cause of the inferno and looking for anyone who'd been potentially caught in the crosshairs, it'd be _days_ before things were much more under control. All the roadblocks just happened to make this job that he had to do more inconvenient, that was all.

But as his gaze flitted up to the crackling flames again, he couldn't deny how his stomach churned. Yes, something was most definitely _wrong_ here.

Finally deciding that zigzagging through the streets to find the closest spot possible to the harbor was a total waste of time when he could instead actually be looking for those he had come to find, Happy parked in front of a gelato store and quickly fed the meter. Then, taking a deep breath as he rolled up the sleeves of his suit jacket, he began to jog down the congested sidewalk.

As he went, the head of security pulled out his phone and once again tried to call Tony's personal number, hoping against hope that there would be a different outcome this time. His dread rose when he was only met with the same result as before– nothing but dead air space.

"C'mon... damn it, Tony..." he murmured before he then tried to call Peter yet again in hopes of getting a hold of him. But just like last time, the phone rang and rang, and the web-slinger didn't answer.

The crowd of people continued to thicken the closer he got to the harbor, and Happy had to push his way through to the front of where people were allowed to be in proximity to the building. At this distance, the crackling of the flames was loud, the sirens and anxious chatter even louder, and he could feel some of the heat from the fire. He anxiously scanned the crowd of civilians, of officers, of emergency personnel, but he didn't see any sign of Tony or Peter.

The only silver lining of that was he didn't see either the kid or the billionaire in the back of an ambulance or being tended to by paramedics somewhere. But as much as a relief as that was, that only opened the door to the far more terrifying question of where they could have possibly been.

Using his suit jacket to fan himself off a little as he tried to catch his breath and ignore the dirty looks being sent his way by the people he had so unceremoniously shoved aside, Happy turned his attention to the nearest officer patrolling the area. "Excuse me, sir?" When the uniformed man came closer, he continued as he pointed to the flaming building. "Any idea what happened here?"

The young officer looked him up and down skeptically, possibly looking for a badge of some kind that would label him as another man in law enforcement or possibly even a journalist who had arrived to the scene a little bit late. Happy inwardly sighed, knowing that his Stark Industries security badge wasn't going to serve him well here, which meant that the answer he was going to get was going to be wrapped in red tape. Not necessarily the most helpful thing in the world when he was on a job of this magnitude.

"Not entirely sure," the other man finally said as he glanced back up at the flames and smoke above them. "It's an old building, it could be a range of things that caused it."

"You mean like a gas leak? Faulty wiring? Some sort of mechanical failure?" Happy pressed. As much as he'd love for that to be the case, something in the back of his mind, something that he couldn't quite pinpoint, was nagging at him that that wasn't the right avenue. It had been something else...

"Quite possibly."

"You don't think it could have been... I don't know... anything more... sinister?"

The officer arched an eyebrow as he turned back to the head of security. "Sinister?" he repeated.

Happy held his hands up in a placating gesture. "No, I wasn't suggesting that it was something like that, necessarily," he protested. "Just a possibility. I don't _want_ it to be intentional. But you never know..."

A moment passed before the officer glanced back up at the flaming building. "Not sure why someone would want to ruin this building, honestly," he replied thoughtfully. "It really has no significance..."

There it was. That dread that had been persisting since he'd left the Avengers Tower came back with a vengeance. "You don't think that anyone was... you know... up there, do you?" he asked. If Peter and Tony had been anywhere around when the blast, either accidental or otherwise, had gone off... That wouldn't have been good at all.

The officer shook his head slightly. "I seriously hope not," he muttered. "With the way the fire's going, it's going to be quite some time before we can get it under control to a point where the building can be searched. If anyone's up there..."

The sentence didn't have to be finished for Happy to know exactly what the officer was implying. He swallowed nervously as he turned his gaze up to the billowing smoke himself. His stomach was in knots. Something about this _definitely_ wasn't settling well with him at all.

 _C'mon, Tony... Kid... Where are you guys?_

"Though in all honesty, we really didn't have any witnesses to what happened here," the officer continued, looking past the head of security in the direction of the ferry port. "The action was over there."

Happy tore his gaze away from the crackling flames, the man's voice breaking into the thoughts he was having of a hundred worst case scenarios for his former employer and the teen, and looked back at him curiously. "How so?" he wondered.

The officer leaned a little closer to him. "I don't know exactly why since I just got here a little bit ago myself, but both that Spider-Man guy _and_ Iron Man were spotted down by the ferry," he told him, and Happy couldn't help but be somewhat amused by the hints of excitement he heard under the surface as he spoke. Oh, if only this young guy knew who _he_ was in relation to both heroes. He'd probably get quite a bit more information, but it seemed like he really didn't know more than what he was telling him. "Not entirely sure how, but I guess the ferry was, like, split in half, but Iron Man pretty much repaired it and got everyone off safely. Not sure where Spider-Man went after he tried to do the same."

So, from what it sounded like to him, Peter had gotten involved in something that was _way_ over his head, and Tony had come in and cleaned up the mess. Happy wasn't overly surprised by that turn of events– after all, Peter was still pretty new to this whole thing and was very overeager to impress the older Avenger. And Tony, while still a hothead at times, had matured quite a bit over the years he'd known him and had been doing this superhero stuff a whole heck of a lot longer. The only bad thing about it was, it sounded like innocent people could have died due to the kid's folly if the billionaire hadn't shown up and intervened when he had.

And that made him wonder if whatever had happened on the ferry had anything to do with the destruction of the building. At least he had a bit more of a timeline to work with now, as well as more people he could speak with to figure out more details. He had a place to start, anyway.

Though he was still left with the unsettling question of where either Tony or Peter were now...

The officer was then called away by another, and Happy waved after him as he hurried off. He then turned and began to push his way back through the crowd, earning more angry looks as he made his way in the direction of the ferry port. He looked around carefully for any indication of anyone familiar and kept his phone clutched tightly in his hand as he went, and once he broke out of the crowd of curious onlookers, he quickly tried to call Tony one more time. His heart sunk, as the result was exactly the same.

Only dead air space.

Happy was about to try calling Peter one more time when his phone vibrated, signaling an incoming call. He almost laughed aloud in relief when he saw the name flashing on the screen, and he immediately answered it and brought the phone to his ear.

" _Peter_!" he practically yelled as he finally broke away from the last bit of the crowd gathering to check out the burning building, his gaze scanning the port. "I'm at the harbor, kid. Tell me where you are. I'll come find you!"

 _"H-hey, Happy..."_ While still weak, the head of security was happy to hear that the teen sounded at least a bit stronger. That was encouraging. _"You're at... the harbor? See that... that building on fire?"_

This time, Happy had to resist the urge to roll his eyes or make some sort of snappy comeback. Now wasn't the time for that. "Can't miss it, kid," he deadpanned. "I'm on my way toward the ferry port now. Is that where you are? You were spotted there."

 _"Uhhh, no... Closer to the building, actually,"_ Peter told him. _"See the... the crates kinda by the water? I landed there... after the building exploded... Or so Karen tells me. I don't remember that myself, but... but I trust her, y'know...?"_

Karen? He couldn't say for sure who that was, but his best guess was the kid had named the AI that came along with his suit. But more importantly, that feeling of dread returned as Happy looked around until he spotted the crates the web-slinger must have been referencing. It sounded like Peter was closer to the building than he'd have liked him to be when the fire broke out.

Which meant Tony...

"Okay, kid, I see 'em. Just sit tight, I'll be there in a second." Keeping the phone at his ear, he began to jog toward where Peter was guiding him. He winced when some muscles in his lower back complained.

"Yup, I'm _definitely_ demanding a raise when this is all said and done..." he muttered under his breath.

When he got closer to where the cases were mostly neatly stacked, he heard the teen chuckling quietly in his ear. _"I don't think... I've seen you run this much before... Happy..."_

Oh, how he would have _loved_ to make a snappy comeback this time. But, considering the circumstances, the head of security thought better of it and bit his tongue. "I'm assuming if you can see me, I'm getting warmer," he said instead.

He slowed his pace as he scanned the crates, looking for any sign of life, until he spotted a red gloved hand in the air behind a light blue one not far off to his right waving at him. Sighing, Happy ended the call and slipped his phone back in the pocket of his suit jacket as he hurried over, not entirely sure what sort of sight he'd be greeted with when he got there but bracing for the worst.

Considering that he had been pretty close to the explosion that had gone off, Spider-Man wasn't looking nearly as bad as he would have thought. He was sitting up, at least, slumped back against the light blue crate. His posture was definitely defeated, and he seemed to be having a little difficulty catching his breath.

"Y-you hung up on me..." Peter muttered as he looked up at the older man. "... Rude."

Despite himself, Happy cracked a smile. "And _you've_ been spending too much time around Tony," he countered. He then quickly took his phone back out before slipping it into the pocket of his dark slacks before digging around in one of the interior pockets, pausing when his fingers brushed against the cool, silver band that the billionaire had more or less told him to hang onto since he hadn't been able to stand looking at it for a while after he'd bought it. With a quiet sigh, he pulled that out and dropped it in with his phone before he slipped his jacket off and dropped to a knee next to the teen, draping it securely around his slightly trembling shoulders.

"At least I found you," the head of security continued, his tone more sober now. "What happened, kid? After the ferry? You and Tony put it back together, yeah?"

"Um... yeah, but it was really Mr. Stark who... who fixed it..." Peter explained, pulling the large suit coat a bit closer around him. For some reason, it felt good to be sheltered. It was warm and comforting. "I, uh... I went up on that building that's on fire right now, and... and M-Mr. Stark found me. We... we argued a bit, he... he wasn't wearing his suit, and... He said he wanted mine back... And then I woke up down here. Karen said I... I barely got away from the explosion..." He paused with a sigh, shaking his masked head a bit. "I'm... I'm sorry, Happy... I... I swear I don't... I don't remember what happened in between... I-it's like... it's like there's this... _hole_ in m-my memory right now..."

Happy attempted to keep his features impassive, but the more he heard from the web-slinger, and the questions that his words were raising, the more that lingering dread chipped away at him. "Don't force it, kid, it'll come back," he assured him, about to reach out in an abnormal gesture of consolation by setting his hand on his shoulder. But he refrained, not entirely sure if that would be the best idea since he didn't know if the kid had any injuries. "Are you hurt at all?"

Peter shook his head, taking a deep, steadying breath. "I mean... bumps, bruises, everything's sore, and the like. But... nothing serious."

"So, if I were to ask your suit's AI... Karen... for a diagnostics report..." Happy began, arching an eyebrow.

"Okay, okay." Peter sighed with clear frustration. "She told me I have a little head trauma but no concussion. And I guess some sort of... brainwave abnormality, or something... But really... nothing serious."

No concussion? He wasn't so certain about that since the kid was... a little off, to say the least. But, Tony's AIs were usually pretty spot on when it came to reading vitals and injuries, so if Karen wasn't detecting a concussion, the teen must have not had one. But there was this... _brainwave abnormality_ thing to worry about...

A moment passed before Happy sighed. "Can you take your mask off, kid?" he asked quietly. "I don't think anyone's really gonna see us over here."

Slowly, almost reluctantly, the teen reached up and slowly pulled his mask off, and the head of security inwardly winced. Peter's face was a few shades too pale, a nasty bruise was blooming near his temple while another made its presence known on his cheek, and there were a couple spots of dried blood on his skin and matted in his hair. His pupils were somewhat dilated.

"What? Do I... look that bad?" Peter wondered innocently, reading the older man's eyes.

Happy forced himself to smile. "Actually, kid, considering what you've been through, you don't look half bad," he said. But then, his expression turned serious again. "But I think we will have to make a quick stop at the emergency room."

Peter's eyes widened. "No, Happy, really! I'm fine!" he protested. "I swear, it's okay. I have a really quick healing ability. These things won't take overly long to clear up. Really."

Despite himself, Happy couldn't help but feel slightly amused by the web-slinger's insistence. "That may be, but if anything, I'd like to get that head of yours looked at," he replied, gentle but not budging. "Don't wanna take any chances with that. Okay?"

Realizing he really didn't have an option at this point, nor did he really have the strength to argue, Peter nodded glumly.

"That a boy," Happy said, his smile returning as he started to push himself to his feet. "So let's get you up, and–!"

"Wait!"

The head of security looked back down at him curiously. "What's up, kid?"

A look of desperation, of fear, appeared on the teen's face. "What... what about Mr. Stark...?" he murmured. "We have to find him... Something could be wrong... Karen said she couldn't reach him, and... and I don't... don't know where he is... and neither does she... We have to find him, Happy..."

There was that dread again, that dread that had been right all along. It was bad enough that he couldn't reach his former boss. But if the AI couldn't contact or trace him...

However, Happy hid these feelings behind a determined look. "You let me handle that, kid," he told him, casting a brief glance up to the flaming building above them. "Don't worry, we'll find him."

 _I hope..._

Peter didn't look overly convinced, but he accepted Happy's outstretched hand as he helped to pull him slowly, carefully, to his feet. The teen winced at all the movement, having to lean on the man a bit for some added support to keep from falling back over. He was relieved when the head of security carefully wound an arm around his back to keep him steady and standing, and he allowed his eyes to slide closed.

"So, our other pressing matter here is do you have some... y'know... clothes under the suit?" Happy wondered, attempting to quell his fear for his still missing best friend. "I don't think I can lead you past a huge group of reporters and already agitated civilians dressed like this. Nor can you walk into the ER with the suit."

The web-slinger noticeably hesitated as he glanced up at him. "Uh... no, no I don't..."

Happy cursed under his breath at yet another inconvenience as he began to look around them, wondering if there was a way out of this one. When he looked in the direction of the ferry port, a small smile appeared on his face.

"Don't worry, kid. We'll sort that out."

 **Author's Note** : That's it for this one! Happy found Peter, but there's something up with everyone's favorite web-slinger. And Tony's still missing. What's going on with Peter, and where's everyone's favorite billionaire? We'll find out as we keep going! Thanks for all the support last time, guys, I hope you all like this update as well! If you'd like to, feedback's always appreciated! See you all next time! :-)


	3. Chapter 3- Headline News

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Hey, guys! Thanks for the reviews, follows, and favorites, they mean a lot! Now, there are a couple little clues in this chapter as to which villain from the comics is behind everything, though I'd like to do a little reminder that I've taken some creative liberties with him to fit this story. With that said, I hope you guys enjoy chapter three! :-) Happy and Peter awkward bonding ahead!

 _Chapter 3– Headline News_

"I got the kid. We're headed to the ER now. He's a little worse for wear, but he'll live. He's actually sleeping right now. Lucky for him, he managed to escape that explosion by the harbor with relatively minor injuries. Though it does take a _lot_ to hurt him, and he's got some sort of enhanced healing ability... Anyway, he'll be fine, I'm just bringing him in to make sure everything's okay. He honestly seems more shaken up than anything..." Happy let out a nervous chuckle. "You know as well as I do that someone we both know very well would kill me if I... if I didn't bring him in..."

The trip back to the car hadn't been the easiest on either Happy or Peter. After standing guard for the web-slinger to make sure no one discovered him changing from the suit into the makeshift outfit he'd bought for him from the tourist department near the Staten Island Ferry port, he'd had to more or less drag the half-conscious teen the few blocks he'd run earlier to get to the harbor. Fortunately, no one had paid them much mind since everyone was so distracted by the disaster of the burning building. After stopping a few times for Peter to catch his breath, they made it back to his vehicle in _just_ enough time to beat the notoriously mean meter maid who wandered the streets in that part of town. After having been ticketed by her before for getting to his car not even a minute too late, he had to admit he took great satisfaction in seeing her scowl at the fact that he'd won this round.

Though the fact that he'd had to drag the kid at all concerned him. Other than seeming disoriented and just plain off, the weakness in his limbs, how he seemed so physically drained, wasn't good. But the suit's AI– Karen?– hadn't detected anything serious other than... a _brainwave abnormality_.

Happy then chanced a glance in the rearview mirror when he came to a stop at a red light at where Peter– now dressed in a too large "I survived my trip to NYC" t-shirt with a cartoon drawing of a taxi on it, pink Hello Kitty sweatpants, and flip-flops with his black suit jacket still draped over his lap like a blanket– was curled up in the backseat, his thin arms wrapped around himself almost protectively, with his head leaning crookedly against the headrest. The multi-million Spider-Man suit was in a brown paper shopping bag on the passenger seat up front. His eyes were closed, but it was clear by his still too-pale face that any sleep he was getting wasn't at all restful.

The head of security's gaze faltered as he watched the teen for a moment longer, his brow furrowing. Something had happened up on that rooftop besides his argument with Tony and the explosion, of that he was certain. Peter may not have remembered yet, but it would come to him in time. Hopefully. Though judging by how it was clearly affecting him even subconsciously, he almost dreaded to find out what that something was.

 _"That's a relief. I'm glad to hear the kid's overall okay,"_ Pepper said on the other end. Her voice was quiet with a slight tremble to it, and Happy sighed to himself when he knew exactly where her mind was at. It was a concern he wholeheartedly shared. _"So... he was a part of that fire, then...?"_

"It seems like it, yeah," Happy confirmed as he turned onto the street that would bring him to the hospital. "I don't exactly know how since the kid really doesn't remember too much of what happened right now, other than he and Tony had some kind of argument shortly before it happened, and then he woke up on the ground and the suit's AI told him there'd been an explosion."

There was hesitance in her next words, but it was also clear that she _needed_ to know this answer. _"So, that means... that means that Tony was part of that, too..."_

Happy tightened his hand around the wheel. "Listen, Peps. I'm sure... I'm sure that Tony's gotta be fine if the kid is," he attempted to assure her, even though he wasn't quite sure himself about what he was saying. "He had his suit there, even if he wasn't wearing it during their conversation. There's a good chance he's around the area, just as discombobulated as Peter. I'll go back and look when we're done at the ER."

 _"I... I don't know, Hap..."_

"I know, Peps." He wasn't sure what else he could say.

There was a long silence after that, one where the head of security didn't try to push the CEO into speaking. His own mind was spinning, trying to come to terms with all that had happened as well, so letting her do that at her own pace was the best idea. He instead turned up the radio a smidge more, but not loud enough where he couldn't hear her when she decided to come back, nor loud enough to disturb Peter's fitful sleep in the back. He just needed a little more noise since the silence of the rest of the car's occupants were going to drive him crazy if he were left alone with his thoughts.

 _"I've been watching the news,"_ Pepper finally spoke up, her voice wavering. He was almost relieved to hear her voice again, he just didn't like how somber it sounded since it was so unlike her. _"They mentioned what... what happened down by the ferry. How... how it was torn in half and almost sank, and... and how Peter and Tony saved it. And with the building, they're saying the explosion was possibly caused by a gas leak, or something... And you know, I'm not really sure if I believe that. I mean, doesn't it seem a little odd that both incidents happened in such close proximity to each other almost at the same time? How... how can that be a coincidence, Hap?"_

Happy quickly glanced in the rearview mirror to check on the kid again. "I mean, I suppose it's possible what they're saying could be the case," he muttered. "But you're right, something doesn't feel right about this. Especially because we know for sure that Tony and Peter were involved with both incidents, which the news doesn't. Plus, when I was there, I didn't smell any gas or anything. Though, that really doesn't mean much since the fire is at the top of the building..."

 _"So... do you think it was... intentional...?"_ Pepper's fear at this possibility was palpable.

The head of security waited for a minute before he answered with a sigh. "I think it's very possible, Peps... After all, Peter was working on some sort of mission with... arms dealers with some alien-tech based weaponry when he got in over his head, from what Tony's told me. We can get more details from the kid on that when he's more coherent, no problem. But I wouldn't put it past them to strike when their guard was down, especially since they likely wouldn't want Iron Man getting on their trail, too. And..." He sighed in defeat. He was going to regret saying this, he knew it already. "And, well, Tony's sort of... made a lot of enemies over the years. A lot of people sorta hate him... and the rest of the Avengers, too, of course!" He quickly added the end, hoping to soften the blow.

Pepper's breath caught in her chest but didn't say a word, and Happy's heart dropped. Hearing that had been worse than having her snap at him, no doubt about it, and he regretted what he said even more, despite knowing that it was true.

"Regardless, I could be wrong, but after just the little bit I've learned after finding Peter, something isn't settling quite right in the sense of that explosion being an accident," he concluded.

A moment passed before Pepper sighed heavily, sounding as though she had the weight of the whole world pressing down on her shoulders. _"No, no, you're right_ ," she agreed softly, almost in resignation. _"But that means that... that something could be wrong... with Tony... I mean, none of us are able to reach him..."_

Happy nodded once. As optimistic as he'd tried to be with her earlier, that was a hauntingly _real_ possibility, and certainly one that he didn't want to think about. "Agreed. But we'll figure this out, Peps. I promise. Just hang in there, okay?"

 _"I know... Of course I will."_

Then, the head of security's brow furrowed when he heard a quiet sound from the backseat. He glanced in the rearview mirror to see that Peter was stirring and mumbling something in his sleep. He was clearly distressed.

"Hey, Peps, I'm gonna have to go," he told her. "Something's going on with the kid, and we're almost at the hospital now. I'll call you back when we're done at the ER. I don't see it taking very long... But you let me know if you hear anything, too. From... from Tony, or anything. You know he's more likely to reach out to you than me."

A slight laugh came from the other end of the phone, Pepper sounding like she'd cry instead if she hadn't. _"Okay, Hap. I will."_

"That a girl." With that, Happy hung up and tossed his phone to the passenger seat with the bag holding the Spider-Man suit before turning his full attention to the teen. Not that he was the most comfortable with kids, but this should be okay, he reasoned. "Hey, kid? Peter? You okay, buddy?" He paused, turning down the radio so he could try to make out what he was muttering about that was freaking him out so much. "Peter?"

Only met with more indistinguishable mumbles, Happy reached back with one arm, glancing behind him only briefly so he could keep his eyes on the road, and managed to set his hand lightly on the web-slinger's knee over his suit jacket. "Peter? It's okay, kid. You're okay. We're in my car, nothing's going to hurt you here. You're just having a nightmare, bud, that's all..."

"N-no... wait. Un-uncle Ben... wait... no..."

Happy's eyes narrowed slightly when this time, he _could_ understand some of Peter's frantic mutterings. He secured his hold on his knee. "It's all right, kid," he reassured him. "It's just a nightmare. You're okay."

Suddenly, Peter jerked awake, his eyes wide as he looked around him. The head of security immediately withdrew his hand, and he felt the teen's panicked gaze focus intently on the back of his head. He then heard a quiet, almost nervous, chuckle.

"Oh... sorry about that, Ha-Happy. Didn't mean to... to bother you..."

Happy offered him a small smile flashed through the rearview mirror. "It's all right, buddy," he said, attempting to keep his tone light. "Didn't bother me." He frowned slightly. "You, uh... you're not the only one I know with bad nightmares..."

Though there was an undeniable look of curiosity on Peter's face at this, he didn't press the topic since he could tell the underlying subject of those words was a difficult one. Instead, he absently rubbed his arms, out of embarrassment more than anything else, as he gazed intently out the window. Why'd he have to go and do something stupid like that when he and Happy didn't necessarily get along the greatest in the first place?

But the head of security had come for him when he'd needed someone to...

Able to feel how uncomfortable things were getting, Happy sighed as he stopped at another red light. "You know you can go back to sleep if you want, kid," he told him. "I'm probably not the best at small talk right now, or really most the time if I'm being honest... Won't bother me a bit."

The teen noticeably paled as he briefly shook his head. "N-no, I'm okay, thanks..." he muttered, not able to look back at him.

Whatever the dream had been about had clearly scared him, that much was clear. Happy sighed before trying another tactic. "Well, we're almost at the hospital," he informed him. "So we'll soon be able to get ya in and out of there as quick as possible. How's that sound?"

Peter nodded once. "Yeah, sounds great." His tone was quiet, distant, disinterested even.

Knowing he probably wasn't going to make any progress with the kid at the moment, Happy looked straight ahead of him, focusing on the traffic as the hospital at last came into sight a few blocks ahead. He spared a brief glance down at the radio dial, and, thinking it wouldn't hurt, reached out and slowly turned it to the right so the music– a particular ACDC favorite of his that he shared with Tony– was a little louder. For some reason, it put his troubled mind a bit more at rest as fun moments with the billionaire over the years he knew he'd come to cherish came rushing back as the chorus came through the speakers. Besides, it wasn't like he and his passenger were going to be talking much, anyway.

So it was with surprise that he heard Peter's still somewhat weak voice yet again, though this time, it had a bit of a cheerful tone to it. "This song?" he spoke up. "It's a really old one, but I like it. Aunt May sometimes plays it."

Happy glanced in the rearview mirror curiously, seeing there was a small but true smile in the teen's paler features as he looked at the back of his head. His eyes, with the pupils slightly less dilated now, had a bit of a gleam to them. The former laughed, causing the look on Peter's face to broaden. "Y'know, this is one of Tony's favorites, too. He often listens to it while working on something or other in his lab," he replied with a fond smile of his own. "You've got a good taste in tunes there, kid. It's a classic!"

Peter chuckled quietly. "It's definitely catchy."

The head of security tapped the steering wheel in time to the beat, glancing in the mirror in time to see that Peter was nodding his head slightly to it as well as he went back to gazing out the window. He was glad to see the web-slinger's spirits had been lifted a little. The thought made his smile grow a little more.

But as he pulled into the hospital parking lot to look for a spot, Happy's brow furrowed a bit as his mind ventured to the nightmare that had so abruptly woken Peter.

Who was Uncle Ben?

Knowing it probably wasn't the best idea to ask at that time, he instead decided on the other thought that occurred to him as he kept his eyes out for an empty space. "Hey, kid? So, I know we're... associates? Friendly associates? Buddies?" An amused look passed over Peter's face as he attempted to find the right word. "Regardless, considering you're a minor, I don't think it's gonna be very simple for me to find out much about the injuries you sustained unless I'm a relation. So, if you don't object to me having your medical diagnosis here, we're gonna have to come up with something. I've got some tactics I can use, but..."

Once again, the teen was undeniably curious about this man who worked for Stark Industries, the intrigue this time enough to make him lean forward in the seat a bit. "Like what?" he wondered in awe.

Happy smirked. "Can't go revealing _all_ my secrets, kid," he said. Though slightly disappointed, Peter found himself realizing that Tony and those he kept around him really were men of mystery. "Though I will say it's impossible to not pick up a couple things here and there from the years I've worked for a Stark. From what I've heard from Tony, you've got quite a sharp mind in ya, so it wouldn't surprise me if you pick up some things the more time you spend with us, too."

It was impossible for Peter to keep the grin from spreading across his face at this prospect, as well as the compliment he hadn't known Tony had given him.

"Anyway, I'd prefer to _not_ have to resort to using any of those to find out how you're doing if I don't have to," the head of security continued. "So, that means we'll have to come up with something a bit easier and preferably at least appearing to be more legal."

The web-slinger worried his bottom lip between his teeth in careful thought as they finally found a parking spot about halfway across the lot and pulled into it. Then, a smirk of his own appeared on his face. "I've got something simple," he replied, a mischievous gleam appearing in his eyes. "Though I'll need you to answer something for me first."

Happy arched an eyebrow, almost regretting bringing up this issue already. He wasn't sure if he liked the look on the kid's face...

"Oh, yeah? And what would that be?"

* * *

If there was one place Happy hated sitting in more than any other, it was a hospital waiting room. Especially an emergency room waiting room. It wasn't quite as bad as lying in a hospital bed– he'd had more than enough of that to last him a lifetime after being caught and nearly killed in an Extremis explosion, leaving him comatose– but it was close enough to remind him of that time in his life he'd really rather forget about.

The head of security glanced around at the other people waiting with him for their friends and loved ones– a young mother with two children who couldn't have been more than three and doing everything she could to keep them occupied, a middle-aged couple trying to distract themselves by looking at some out-of-date magazines, a teenager counting out some coins presumably for the vending machine while his father didn't look up from his phone, and an old woman working patiently on some small knitting project with deft yet slightly trembling fingers, just to name a few– before turning his attention to his own phone and scrolling through his contacts. His thumb hovered over Tony's name for a moment, wanting to just go ahead and try calling yet again but not doing so since he knew nothing would change. He was definitely relieved that he had found Peter relatively unscathed, since although he annoyed the absolute crap out of him with his relentless phone calls, he was a good kid overall. Kept his nose clean mostly, at least.

But Tony...

His gaze landed on the picture he was using for the contact, and he couldn't help but smile as he enlarged it. Tony was next to him, sitting on the couch in his living room at his and Pepper's old home in Malibu, and while he was grinning broadly, the billionaire beside him was wearing an overdramatic expression of mock crying. A slight chuckle escaped him at the memory. It was one of the few times the other man had joined him to watch _Downton Abbey_ , his own personal favorite show, and while he'd been obnoxious the entire time by either asking stupid questions about random things or questioning every little thing the characters did or even just wondered why he liked such an elegant soap opera, it was some of the most fun he'd ever had watching it (especially since he'd been able to catch the episode again at a later time to see what he'd missed while talking through it the first time). What he hadn't expected was for Tony to invite him back over a few weeks later, asking sarcastically, yet with a straight face, "So, what'd I miss? Who died? Got married? Had a kid? Whatever?" as they settled in to watch that evening's newest episode with a huge bowl of popcorn to share between them.

It was a fond memory he'd always treasure.

Happy sighed to himself as he slipped his phone back in the pocket of his suit jacket that he now had back. He had never expected that over the years he'd worked for him that Anthony Edward Stark would become his best friend. Sure, he was someone he'd always looked out for and protected, ever since he was first hired as his bodyguard and limo driver years ago. But back then, he had only done so since it was his job. Back then, Tony had been... eccentric, egotistical, and way too much of a playboy for his tastes. It was difficult work keeping track of him when he'd be running from party to party, or keeping an eye on whoever he spent his time with there, or having to keep tabs on _everyone_ there because he'd never been certain who'd want to slip something in his charge's drink or try something else of suspicious nature that could bring him harm. Just like his dad before him, he had more enemies than people he could consider friends.

But that all changed when Tony had made that fateful trip to Afghanistan. He hadn't been able to protect him then. But how could he have? He'd had no clue that Obadiah Stane had tried to orchestrate the billionaire's captivity and death for all that time he'd worked with the younger Stark. But... perhaps he should have. He could have done _something_ , _noticed_ something, couldn't he have? That had been his job, hadn't it? Though he knew there was no use dwelling on that now. What was done was done, and Tony had still been returned to them safe and sound.

But it was definitely clear that his charge had been... different when he'd returned to the States after his captivity. He was almost a shell of his former self, no matter how hard he tried to pass off otherwise. Happy had been able to see all the cracks in the aloof, uncaring exterior of this completely changed man. And he had to admit to himself that while Tony had been in captivity for those three months, enduring who knew what, he realized that his role as bodyguard for Howard's son was much more than just a job. It was because he _wanted_ to keep him safe. Because he _cared_.

As the billionaire had continued to recover from what had happened, both physically and mentally, he had opened up to him a bit more and became increasingly more friendly toward him, which Happy had initially found surprising. And over the years, they'd formed a close, trusting friendship. Happy didn't have too many people he could consider friends outside of those who worked at Stark Industries since the job had taken up most of his time for so many years, but he loved the little makeshift family that he, Tony, Pepper, and Colonel James Rhodes had created. Professionally speaking, he had continued to be Tony's bodyguard even when he wasn't CEO of Stark Industries anymore, at least for a little while. But he had to admit he'd felt ridiculous telling people he was the bodyguard of _Iron Man_ of all people, so he'd demanded that he get a different position. After all, Tony didn't need him in that way anymore. While it wouldn't hurt for _someone_ to keep an eye on him at least some of the time since he could still get himself into trouble relatively easily, he could overall take care of himself now. So he was thrilled when he was promoted to the head of security of Stark Industries, his main charge now being Pepper since she had taken over as CEO. Even though now, he was balancing that somewhat with the Asset Manager position he also held, and was secretly glad about since he'd really rather avoid another situation like the Extremis incident, which is why he found himself at the Tower so much packing up everything to move out.

But at the thought of the stubborn woman who had somehow won Tony's heart, Happy's thoughts flitted to the silver engagement ring with the impressive gem in it that had been sitting in his suit pocket for quite some time, ever since the other man had not been able to even think about it not long after he had bought it for her, which had ironically been shortly before she walked out his door. Happiness was the one thing he'd always wanted for Howard's son. And happiness was one thing he did not have before Pepper had surprisingly made such an impact on his life, even though Tony at one time would have argued the ritz and glamour of his playboy, party lifestyle was all he'd ever need. But Happy had seen, as things had begun to develop between him and his– at the time– personal assistant in a way none of them had ever anticipated, that his charge had been discovering a true source of happiness and peace through her for the first time in his life. That woman was the best thing to ever happen to the billionaire, of that he was certain. He had been encouraged when they'd moved in together the closer they'd gotten over the years, he had been elated when Tony had taken the step to actually buy the ring. He had been disheartened, angry at his former boss even, when he had let her walk away. Though he had also been able to see, as much as the other man didn't want to show it, just how heartbroken and lost he had been without her with him.

It was why he had been so relieved when Pepper had shown up at Avengers Tower one night about a couple months ago, saying that Tony had tried to reach her more than once sounding as though he needed her. That she had come back, even as a friend, had been a good step in the right direction. It had given him hope that they would be able to find their way back to each other once again since it was clear to him that neither of them had lost their feelings for the other.

Perhaps it was a hope that was still there. If Tony wasn't... No, he couldn't bring himself to think it.

But while he was glad to watch over the feisty woman, especially now when she needed that shoulder to lean on, there were many times where Happy missed the way things used to be with his former boss– the way things were before he'd donned the suits and started saving the world as Iron Man along with his new superfriends. At least he would still be his chauffeur from time to time, as it gave them some time together like it used to be, but still, it just wasn't the same. And at least with this kid that Tony had brought in to mentor, it gave them something else to do and bond over together.

As he sat in the uncomfortable chair, glancing at the small television hanging in the corner and reading the scrolling news headlines about the incident down by the Staten Island Ferry featuring both Spider-Man and Iron Man as well as the fire still blazing in the nearby building, he couldn't help but think that maybe– _maybe_ – he could have protected Tony this time, too. That if he had somehow been able to, like he used to, he'd be okay now.

But just like with Afghanistan, he hadn't been able to protect him. And now he was missing and possibly hurt, or... or...

"Mr. Harold Hogan?"

Happy flinched a bit at his dreaded real name. _This_ was what the kid had asked him in the car before they'd walked into the hospital. Not that he minded the name "Harold" overly much, really, he just wasn't used to it being used for him since he had gone by this nickname dumped on him by Tony for so long. Hearing it aloud was a bit off-putting, to say the least.

But, having to keep up appearances, and to follow the plan that he and Peter had come up with, the head of security rose to his feet, grumbling under his breath at how stiff his back was from that blasted chair, and ambled his way over to the middle-aged doctor who'd stepped into the waiting room. "Yes, that'd be me," he said, quickly making sure his Stark Industries badge was in plain sight. "How's my nephew?"

As strange as it was to say, he thought he managed to pull it off well. This had been the kid's simple idea to get him into his hospital room to find out what the damage was. And it was very simple and to the point. Much easier than any other thing he could have done, which, granted, wasn't much since he wasn't a tech genius like Tony. But still. He could do _some_ things. Thankfully when they'd checked in and the receptionist asked Peter some basic questions, they hadn't pressed further on the fabrication of the familial relation. Also in hindsight, he knew it would have been easier still to just bring the teen to the Avengers facility upstate to get medical treatment. But the hospital had been closer, and quite honestly, the way Peter had been so _off_ made him nervous to the point of wanting to get him checked out as quickly as possible. Not to mention only he, Tony, and Pepper knew his real identity, so bringing him to the facility wouldn't have been the best idea. The only concern had been the bill, which Happy had agreed to cover under the guise of the Stark internship so his Aunt May would never have to know he was there if it wasn't serious and she _had_ to know, and so she wouldn't have to pay for an "on-the-job" injury.

The doctor flashed him a too bright smile he wasn't sure he trusted before glancing down at his clipboard. "He's resting and watching TV now," he informed him before chuckling. "Though I can tell you, he doesn't want to be anywhere near here. He was complaining through most of our examination."

Happy couldn't keep the small smile from appearing at the corner of his lips. _That_ sounded more like the teen he knew.

"So, you said that you and your nephew were on the Staten Island Ferry this afternoon when the incident happened, is that correct?"

"Yes," Happy answered with a nod, keeping to the story he and Peter had come up with. "Honestly, I have no clue what was happening when the ferry just started... breaking apart, and then that Spider-Man guy and Iron Man were there... It was crazy. But with all that happening, I was afraid that he may have... hit his head, or something, since he wasn't quite acting like himself when we got off the ferry."

The doctor spared a quick glance at his security badge before turning back to his notes. "Well, he did exhibit signs of minor head trauma, but nothing major such as a concussion or any swelling," he said. "There really weren't too many alarming physical ailments at all, actually. Other than some lacerations, abrasions, contusions, and some muscle weakness, I'd say that you and your nephew were relatively lucky today, Mr. Hogan."

Happy was about to allow himself a sigh of relief when that dreaded word came.

"However."

Dread flooded through the head of security as he met the other man's gaze. "However...?" he prompted.

The doctor sighed and lowered his glasses as he met the other man's gaze. "There were... lingering remains of a hallucinogenic in his system."

It took a moment for Happy to fully comprehend exactly what the doctor was telling him. Well, _that_ could certainly account for why the kid was so off. It was definitely something he could have mentioned. If he'd even known...

"A hallucinogenic?" he repeated quietly. "Like a drug?"

"More like a gas," the doctor replied. "It's almost flushed out of his system now, and he seems to be getting a little stronger as a result. But do you have any idea where your nephew could have come in contact with it, Mr. Hogan?"

"N-no," Happy muttered, his mind racing. How _could_ have a hallucinogenic gas gotten into the kid's system? Unless it had happened on top of that building... His heart dropped at the thought of what that could have meant for Tony, as well as cemented for him that what had happened couldn't have been anything but intentional. "He doesn't do that kind of stuff, if that's what you're implying. He's a good kid!"

"I have no doubt of that, Mr. Hogan. But sometimes even good kids make stupid choices..."

"Not this kid." No, not the goody-two-shoes, always-to-school-on-time, always-getting-his-homework-done, and always-eager-to-impress teen Tony had taken under his wing. "He keeps his nose clean, I guarantee it."

The doctor sighed. "Then do you have any idea how your nephew could have come in contact with it, Mr. Hogan?" he repeated.

Happy frantically attempted to think of something, _anything_ , that could be a relatively good answer to that question. "Well, I know the FBI was on that ferry, too," he finally said, remembering what Tony had told him about how he had been attempting to help Peter with the arms dealers. "Tracking down some people who were dealing with something illegal."

When the doctor arched a questioning eyebrow, the head of security sighed. "Look, I'm not exactly sure how he could have come in contact with it," he conceded. "But that's my best guess. We weren't anywhere else today where he could have. Honest. And he didn't start acting a bit differently until we were off the ferry, when I wanted him to get checked out, anyway."

A moment passed where the doctor studied his eyes, making Happy inwardly squirm, almost as if he were checking for any signs that he could have come in contact with this hallucinogenic gas, too. "Well, Mr. Hogan, it is not my place to tell you the best way of how to handle your nephew from here, although I can offer you some resources that may be of help to him before you leave," he told him.

"And when can that be?" Happy asked, not caring if his tone came off a bit snippy or not.

"It shouldn't take much longer for that drug to wear off, it's already doing so at a quick rate," the doctor answered, ignoring the snippy tone like a true professional. "Since there's nothing else physically wrong with him that's a matter of concern, he may leave after that and when he's feeling up to it. Other than that, he did ask for you, so you can go see him."

This time, Happy did breathe a sigh of relief. At least they didn't have to stay long, like he'd predicted. "Thank you, doctor." He watched as the other man nodded once before walking away to address another person waiting before he pushed open the door that led to the back rooms.

As the head of security made his way down the bustling hallway toward the room he had helped bring Peter to some time after they had checked in, he found his mind was still drastically spinning. He smiled slightly and muttered a quick apology when he almost bumped into a nurse who was hurrying by before sighing wearily. The little more he was able to figure out and piece together about what had happened after the ferry incident was only leaving him with more questions, and not very pleasant ones.

There was no doubt in his mind now, between the explosion and the hallucinogenic gas, that whatever had happened on top of that building had been some sort of attack. But why? What had the attackers wanted? Had they been after Tony or Peter, or perhaps even both? Had the arms dealers wanted to make a more desperate move to get Spider-Man and Iron Man off their trail? But why the gas?

And _where was Tony_? He would definitely have to go back and look further for him, especially if he was also dealing with the hallucinogenic in his system...

Happy was almost making himself dizzy with all of these questions as he rounded the corner and approached the open doorway of the kid's room. He glanced inside, smiling a bit when he saw that Peter had dozed off while watching some stupid show on MTV. He walked inside before carefully lowering himself into the cushioned chair with a sigh, stretching his legs out in front of him in an attempt to get comfortable.

It wasn't very long before he couldn't take anymore of what was playing on the screen, so since the teen was asleep anyway, Happy grabbed the remote and flipped the television to a local news channel, seeing that both the ferry incident and the building fire were still being covered. Just like he'd hoped. Just in case there was anything new.

When he saw there wasn't yet, he made sure Peter was comfortable before he pulled out his cell phone. He considered for a few minutes how to word what he'd learned in a quick text to Pepper, not really able to think of an easy way to do it. He also wondered if he should bring up what he was thinking in terms of having the kid stay with them for a bit at the Avengers Tower since the feeling of dread about the intentions of the attackers wouldn't leave him alone.

"Ha-Happy...?"

At the weak, quiet voice, Happy quickly raised his head to see Peter was now awake and looking up at him intently. But it was how wide his eyes were, the fear in them palpable, that unsettled him the most.

"Hey, kid," he said, trying to be as calming as possible. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch if the kid was a bit disoriented as the hallucinogenic continued to leave his system. "You'll be okay in a little bit, buddy, I promise..."

But he stopped when the teen shook his head almost frantically. "N-no... That's n-not it..." he stammered, reaching out and lightly grasping his arm. "It's... it's..."

Happy fought his normal instinct of pulling away from the touch as his eyes narrowed slightly. The web-slinger seemed truly panicked. "What's wrong, kid?" he wondered, still forcing his voice to remain calm.

Peter continued to stare at him, wide-eyed, as he took a few deep breaths. His voice cracked a bit on his next words. "I... I remember..."

At this, Happy's stomach tightened. He leaned forward a bit. "Just breathe," he muttered, setting a steady hand on his shoulder. "What do you remember, Peter?"

A moment passed where the teen attempted to slow his breathing before he licked his lips to get moisture into them and swallowed hard before he was able to reply.

"I... I remember more of... of what happened with Mr. Stark... on that building..."

Happy's heart leapt, both out of hope but also fear. _That_ was encouraging. Maybe he could get more of a direction of what could have possibly happened to Tony, of where to look...

But before he could say anything more, something the reporter on the news was saying caught his ear. Though playing quietly, it sounded eerily like his best friend's name...

Glancing at the television to make sure he'd heard correctly, Happy's eyes widened as his heart almost stopped and his stomach plummeted when he read the breaking news headline on the bottom of the screen.

 _Stark Presumed Dead; Spider-Man To Blame?_

 **Author's Note** : Annnd, there's a bit of a cliff-hanger! So, Peter's recovering, and Tony's still missing. Peter's starting to remember what happened, and then there's this breaking news headline. So, that still begs the question– what happened? We'll start finding out soon-ish! Thanks for reading, guys! As always, feedback is appreciated! Until next time :-)


	4. Chapter 4- Eyewitness Testimony

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Hey, guys! Thank you so much for your reviews, favorites, and follows for this story! They mean a lot to me! :-) I'm glad you guys are enjoying this little angsty monster so much! All of you seem to be pretty concerned about Tony, and I can't say that I blame ya. So, I thought I'd get this chapter posted with at least a _little_ more insight into what happened. Hope you enjoy!

In response to **Lw117149** : Here ya go! Thanks so much for your review! :-)

In response to **Guest** : Lol, yeah, the cliffhangers aren't probably going to get overly much better :-P But thank you so much for your review, here's the next update! :-)

 _Chapter 4– Eyewitness Testimony_

It wasn't the first time she had seen that headline.

At least, not the first part of it. _Stark Presumed Dead._ No, the first time she had seen that had been not long after she had stood in the ruins of her and Tony's home in Malibu after it had been bombed supposedly by the terrorist known as the Mandarin after the billionaire had stupidly– and out of anger because of what had happened to Happy– threatened him and called him out by giving him their address. Granted, it had been Aldrich Killian, her ex-coworker who'd always had a crush on her and who'd ended up trying to turn her into one of his walking weapons, and worse a trophy, for his messed up Extremis project, who had attacked them. But nevertheless, the outcome had been the same. She knew the memory of standing at the edge of the cliff where the place they had lived had once stood, staring down into the rough ocean waves far below as she desperately searched for the love of her life among the wreckage would continue to haunt her for years to come. Possibly even forever.

At that time, news of Tony's presumed death had spread across the country like wildfire, scrolling across television news stations and glaring from headlines on the front page of various newspapers. But that time had been different. At least that time, he had been able to send a message to the receiver in a broken helmet of one of his suits where she was able to retrieve it, telling her he was okay, that he was sorry for what he had done and that he would never put her in danger again, that he was sorry for the bust of a Christmas present he had gotten for her, that he was sorry in advance because he hadn't been able to come home yet... and that he had stolen a poncho from a wooden Indian. At least he had been able to put her mind at rest before she had gotten wrapped up in something that she had never wanted to be– something that would sometimes still haunt her nightmares to that day. The amount of pain she'd gone through as her body had struggled to accept Extremis was something she'd never forget, and when the dreams would get really bad, she'd swear she could still sometimes feel it running through her veins. It was something she often wanted to keep to herself since Tony had worked to straighten her out and had his own nightmares and anxieties to work on, but she had a feeling he knew anyway, even though he never mentioned it since she didn't. He was always just there when she needed him to be during the times those memories would threaten to consume her, and that was the best thing she could ask for.

But this time... nothing. She checked her phone constantly in case he tried to reach her there, even though his personal number was unavailable. Which didn't stop her from trying to reach him anyway, despite how the result never changed. Not to mention the feeling of dread she'd had even before the news broke that had told her that things were _very_ different this time.

But it was the other part of the headline that _really_ made her feel as though something was _very_ wrong.

 _Spider-Man To Blame?_

In her heart, she just _knew_ there was no way that was possible. It just _couldn't_ be. She may have never met Peter Parker, but from what Tony and Happy had told her, he was a good kid. A little over-enthusiastic, maybe, and he definitely had to slow down a bit and listen to the billionaire's advice before he got himself hurt, but a good kid nonetheless. He wouldn't hurt anyone, she trusted that completely. And he would definitely never hurt _Tony_ of all people. The fifteen-year-old practically idolized him. He was his hero, his inspiration. He couldn't do that.

But most telling of all was Tony had let the web-slinger get in close, though he didn't always show it, and was taking responsibility for him. That alone told her all she needed to know about Peter. Tony didn't let people in easily, so that the kid had gotten as far as he had said more than anything else could. And that was enough for her.

There was no way this news headline could be true. Unless she was shown definitive proof to the contrary, she had to cling to the hope that Tony was still alive. She refused to give up on him, not when he had suffered and survived so much already and had always found a way to come back to her. And there was _no_ way she could ever believe that if, God forbid, something _had_ actually happened to him that Peter of all people was the one responsible. She refused to even acknowledge that ridiculous possibility, there was no way that she could. It just wasn't possible...

Then, Pepper gasped as she jumped when her phone began to ring. Her heart leapt as she glanced at the caller ID, but the somewhat smug smile that accompanied the name wasn't the one she desperately wanted to see.

However, it was still good to see a friendly, familiar face, and she sighed as she rose from where she was sitting tensely on the couch and answered the call. "Rhodey..."

 _"Pepper, did you see the news?"_ the concerned voice of Colonel James Rhodes spoke quickly on the other end. _"What the hell is going on?"_

"I'm not exactly sure myself," Pepper said as she began to pace, keeping an eye on the screen in case anything changed. But the headline remained the same, taunting her. "Happy's with Pe... Spider-Man now, so hopefully we'll be able to get some answers soon."

If he noticed her near slip, Rhodey didn't say anything about it. Instead, he sighed heavily. _"Tony presumed_ dead _...? Do you have_ any _idea at all why that would even be a_ remote _possibility?"_

Pepper shook her head slightly, even though she knew he couldn't see the action. "Not really, no..." she muttered. "I don't know too much about the situation, Tony didn't tell me everything, but from what I've gathered, Spider-Man has been chasing down some arms dealers creating weapons from Chitauri technology left behind from when they were in New York a few years ago, and there was something about a guy with wings... Tony told the kid to let him handle it since he was getting in over his head, but he didn't listen. Something went down at the Staten Island Ferry, I'm not sure what, but Tony went down there to help. And then there was that building fire, and..." She paused, unable to continue as tears that had been rising to her eyes as she spoke now threatened to fall.

Rhodey was silent for a moment, which gave the CEO a little time to gather herself and catch her breath. _"Pepper... despite what they're saying now... I_ can't _believe that_ Spider-Man _did this,"_ he told her, his voice gentle. _"I just can't. I mean, I fought with the kid when we were in Germany. There's just_ no _way he'd turn on Tony like that... He'd do anything for him."_

"I know," Pepper agreed quietly. "I haven't met him like you have, but... from what Tony's told me, I couldn't see him doing anything like what they're claiming. Besides, Hap's been down to the scene, and as I said, he's with Spider-Man now. I'm just waiting for them to get back from the ER..."

 _"ER?"_ Rhodey repeated.

"Yeah, Happy said it seems like both he and... and Tony may have been caught in that explosion on the building..."

Silence passed between the two for another drawn-out few minutes as the colonel processed what she'd said. When he continued, his voice was firm as always, though she could detect the concern in it. _"So... when they said it was a gas leak..."_

"Happy seems to think it might have have been... intentional," Pepper interrupted, attempting to keep her own voice steady. "An attack on one or both of them... It may have been the arms dealers Spider-Man was after, but we're not sure yet. We'll hopefully have more definitive answers when he starts to remember more, since he's struggling with that right now..."

 _"Shit..."_ Rhodey murmured more curses under his breath, but she couldn't make them out. He sighed before he continued. _"So Spider-Man's with Happy at the ER... And what about Tony? Have you or Happy heard or seen anything that would... give a different indication than what's on the news...?"_

A single tear escaped from her eye as Pepper leaned against the back of a chair for support. That dread in the pit of her stomach was returning more painfully than ever. She couldn't breathe. "No... His... his personal number's been disconnected..."

 _"Yeah, I tried that before I called you."_ The mounting worry in the colonel's voice, though well veiled, was still easily heard by her. _"I'll do what I can to help out, Pepper. Though, look, until we know more, I don't think you should be alone right now. You still at the Tower? I know you and Tony were gonna do some packing after you guys left the facility this morning."_

"Don't be ridiculous, Rhodey, you don't have to come to the city," Pepper said, despite how good company sounded at the moment. "Hap should be coming back here soon. He didn't think that the hospital stop was going to take too long."

 _"No, don't_ you _be ridiculous, Pepper."_ She couldn't help but chuckle when she heard the smile in Rhodey's voice and the light teasing in his tone. _"In all seriousness, other than rehabbing, I'm not doing too much around here besides sitting on my ass. It'd do me some good to get out for a while, I'd go crazy otherwise. And it won't take me too long to get there from the facility. Even with these legs..."_

Pepper's gaze faltered. "How are those coming along?" she wondered.

 _"Okay. I'm better adjusted now, feeling a bit more comfortable and confident, at least."_ Even still, the frustration at even needing the robotic help to do something as simple as walking was palpable. _"Tony... he, uh, he was going to add some further improvements and adjustments to them... We were supposed to go over them tomorrow."_

"Rhodey..." Pepper began, though she was cut off by her friend clearing his throat, and she conceded. If there was one thing he never wanted, it was pity.

 _"I'll head over as quickly as I can, Pepper,"_ Rhodey assured her. _"Just hang in there, all right? And then when Happy gets back, we can talk further about finding out what happened to Tony. And work on finding him. Because we will, one way or another. Okay?"_

There was something in his stern voice that made her trust his firm conviction, and more tears formed in her eyes as she nodded. "Okay, Rhodey," she managed to say in just above a whisper. "One way or another."

 _"Okay. See you soon, Pepper."_

"See you soon," Pepper agreed as she ended the call. Truthfully, she was grateful that Rhodey would be over soon. She hated to admit it, but she didn't _want_ to be alone, and having someone she loved and trusted with her, whether it be Happy or Rhodey who got there first and then even both, would keep her mind from going down the dark paths of all the worst case scenarios that could have happened to the billionaire on top of that building.

 _Tony..._

The mere thought caused her stomach to tighten with pain as she glanced back at the television. Her breath caught in her chest when she saw someone was speaking, the description of the man simply being "witness". She dashed around the couch and hurried over to the TV, quickly turning up the volume so she wouldn't miss anything as she listened with bated breath.

 _"... just walking my dog, and there was all this commotion down by the ferry,"_ the clean-shaven, light-haired man was saying as the camera briefly panned down to show the good-sized pit bull attached to the leash he was holding. _"Not sure what that was all about since I couldn't get close enough, but there was what appeared to be this guy there with, like, these mechanical wings, and that Spider-Man guy was there, too. Must've been in a fight, or somethin'... And then, like, the ferry was pretty much sliced in half, and I thought for sure it was gonna sink. But then Iron Man showed up, and he was somehow able to push it back together and get everyone to safety. Not sure where the guy with wings went, he was long gone by this point..._

 _"But then Spider-Man went up to the top of that building there."_ The man paused, pointing in the direction of the top of the burning building before shrugging. _"I pulled out my phone to start recording, you know, since footage of that guy is so popular on YouTube and stuff."_ (At that, Pepper shook her head slightly in disgust.) _"I thought I saw him take off his mask, but I can't be sure since he was so high up. And even if he did, I didn't get a good shot of his face. But anyway, when everyone was off that ferry safely, Iron Man joined him up there. I could barely see, but Stark stepped out of his suit to talk to Spider-Man. I have no idea what they were talking about since I couldn't hear a word they were saying, obviously, but their body language seemed kinda heated. Like they were fighting. Maybe Spider-Man didn't like Stark interfering in his job, or something, I dunno. But not long after that, Spider-Man leapt from the rooftop and swung away, leaving Stark behind. And that was when the explosion hit. That's all I saw, obviously... But I know I didn't see the Iron Man suit flying away, or anything, it was something I watched for until rescue workers came..."_

Pepper's heart felt like it skipped a few beats as her stomach plummeted. She could almost feel all the color leaving her face as she wavered a bit when a wave of dizziness nearly overwhelmed her. She barely registered that the witness, who wished to keep his name anonymous, said he'd be handing the cell phone video he'd gotten– which he admitted wasn't the best quality– over to both the police and reporters in order to help them determine if there was any sort of crime to be found, and that they would hopefully be playing the footage on their next live broadcast coming up in the next hour. Not able to hear anything more, she reached out and turned off the television.

None of it felt real. It had to be a dream, all of it. Just one big nightmare. The fight between Peter and Tony... when he'd _told_ her he wouldn't be too hard on the kid... Peter escaping just before the explosion hit and leaving Tony behind as it did... It just _couldn't_ be real... It _couldn't_...

But that painful dread deep within her, that had settled in her very bones, was telling her otherwise.

 _Tony... Tony could have been..._

But wait. Something about what the witness had said didn't settle right, didn't make sense, not with what she already knew from what Happy had told her.

 _Hadn't Peter_ also _been...?_

Pepper took a sharp intake of breath when her phone vibrated, signaling she had a text. It was from Happy, alerting her that he and the teen would be leaving the hospital shortly. She was relieved about that, as it seemed like the head of security had been right in saying that any injuries Peter had sustained hadn't been too serious. But her brow furrowed in confusion when she also read that he was bringing the web-slinger to the Tower with him for safety reasons. That didn't settle well with her at all... Was he in some sort of danger? What had her friend found out?

But it was the last part of his text that made her heart stop either out of hope or out of fear, she wasn't sure which. It was possibly some combination of both, she realized as she read over the three words a second time.

 _He remembers something._

* * *

 _"God, I sound like my dad..."_

 _Peter looked back at Tony, anxiously going over in his head any reason at all that he could think of to be allowed to keep his suit. It was a part of him, it was what made him Spider-Man. He couldn't lose that... not now. He still had so much to prove to Tony, to everyone, to_ himself _with this suit._

 _But he had nothing. Because he knew the billionaire was right. If he was nothing without the suit, he shouldn't have it. And he could see that nothing was going to change the man's mind about that, no matter what he said now._

 _So, instead, he miserably mumbled the only thing that came to mind._

 _"I don't have any other clothes..."_

 _Tony didn't appear to be overly concerned about this development. He briefly nodded, about to offer a solution, presumably, before he paused when a noise came from behind him. The billionaire turned to look over his shoulder, his brow furrowing when he saw there was no one there. Still, he took a couple small steps closer to the teen as he continued to survey the roof._

 _"What was that?" Peter wondered, his own senses on high alert from not only the sound, but also how stiffly Tony was standing. Something didn't feel right._

 _"Not sure..."_

 _But then, Tony glanced down at the sound of metal hitting concrete, and his hazel gaze landed on a small, metallic ball that was rolling along the rooftop in their direction before it came to a halt when it hit the wall next to them. His eyes widened when he saw the small but familiar symbol he would know anywhere printed on the side of it in black ink– two swords crossed in the center of ten interlocking circles forming a ring, a different symbol in each one of them._

 _"Look out!" The billionaire shoved Peter back as he staggered backwards himself, not having enough time to call for his suit before a light-colored smoke billowed out of the sphere._

 _Peter covered his head, coughing forcefully when the smoke entered his lungs. He squinted through watering eyes as he frantically looked around him, trying to find where Tony had gone. "M-Mr. Stark...?" he rasped out._

 _He could hear the man coughing himself from not too far away, and he took a couple steps closer to the sound. He then flinched when he heard a loud_ boom _, feeling a burst of intense heat on his skin, and he realized when he heard the soft_ clang _of small metallic pieces that the Iron Man suit Tony had been wearing must have exploded somehow. That wasn't good. It was difficult to see through the heavy haze, and if Tony couldn't fight as effectively along with him..._

 _"Mr. Stark!"_

 _He only got another loud round of coughing in response, which matched his own. But finally, he heard his voice. "H-here, kid..."_

 _Peter stumbled forward, toward that familiar voice, before he paused. There was another shape, a dark outline, through the weird smoke that he could hardly make out as it began to thin. But then, who he could finally tell was a man slowly turned toward him, a kind smile on his handsome face, and the web-slinger stopped breathing as his eyes widened._

 _"B-but... but how...? Un-uncle... Ben...?"_

 _The man with dark hair flecked with gray nodded once as his smile broadened, and he held a welcoming hand out toward him. Peter stared for a moment longer in disbelief, tears forming in his eyes as he slowly took a few tentative steps forward._

 _"Uncle Ben... how...?" He paused, shaking his head slightly as he took another step. "I... I thought you... you were..."_

 _But then, he paused. He gasped as his heart skipped a beat when he saw the crimson that was staining the front of the man's white t-shirt. Just like it had been the last time he had seen him._

 _He hadn't been able to stop it..._

 _"No! Uncle Ben!"_

 _Peter began to run forward, not about to let his uncle slip away from him a second time, but he was stopped by a secure arm wrapping around him from behind and pulling him back against a sturdy chest. "No! Let go of me!" he snapped, fighting to escape from the hold. He was prepared to rip off the arm of whoever stopped him if he had to._

 _"Stop! Peter, just stop!" a familiar voice, strong and firm, hissed in his ear. "Focus! There's no one there, Peter."_

 _This got the teen to stop struggling for a moment since the words slammed into him with the force of a semi truck, even though the last ones were spoken in a gentler tone. He glanced up at Tony's determined features, noticing the few cuts that now marked his face, before looking ahead of them again at where his beloved uncle was still standing patiently, his friendly smile lingering as he continued to wait with his hand outstretched._

 _"B-but... Mr. Stark..." he murmured, tears forming in his eyes. "My uncle, he's right there... How can you not see him? Mr. Stark? He's right_ there _! We_ have _to help him!"_

 _However, he didn't get a response. Instead, he felt the billionaire's arm go lax around him. Peter looked up at the man he considered to be his mentor again, and he saw that he was staring at something straight ahead, though it wasn't at where his uncle was standing. The web-slinger took another glance but didn't see anything other than Ben, so he looked back up at Tony with confusion._

 _He knew it was a look that would haunt him for years to come._

 _Tony's slightly paler face was, for the most part, impassive. But in those slightly wider hazel eyes was a look he'd never seen there before._

 _Fear._

Peter stared glumly down at his hands resting in his lap where he was sitting in the back of Happy's car as they drove silently through the congested city traffic. The head of security hadn't even bothered to turn on the radio. And he couldn't blame him, since the man had barely spoken a word to him at all since they'd left the hospital. Since they'd seen that news headline and heard what the eyewitness had said. Since he'd told him the little he'd remembered about what had happened on top of that building with Tony, except for how he had firmly believed he'd seen his late uncle there with them. But really, there was nothing _to_ say, even though he wished he could at least get an _idea_ of what Happy was thinking about all these developments. About if he put any blame on him, even just a little bit...

Miserable would be an understatement of how he felt. Sure, whatever had been in his system had left, but there was a pounding in his temples in its wake, and his body still didn't feel like it was fully cooperating despite how he didn't feel nearly as weak or drained as he did before. There was still a slight tremble in his fingers, but that could have been from anything. And even though he'd finally remembered at least some of the events that had happened before the explosion, it didn't make him feel much better that he still had no idea what had happened to Tony, where he possibly could have been now, or if he was even _alive_ for crying out loud. Or that he didn't know who was responsible for what had occurred– other than him, apparently. Waking up to the news that he was being blamed for the billionaire's presumed death based on what little bits and pieces someone on the sidewalk below them had managed to catch on their cell phone camera left him with a heavy feeling in his chest that he couldn't even begin to describe. He just knew that he'd never felt lower than he was at that moment...

Coming to a stop at a red light, Happy sighed as he quickly glanced at the paper shopping bag with the Spider-Man suit in it and the brochures about drugs, rehab, and other resources given to him by a nurse at the teen's doctor's recommendation when they'd left that he fully intended to ignore on the seat beneath it before looking at his passenger in the rearview mirror. His brow furrowed when he saw the look on his still pale face.

"Hey, kid?"

"Hmm?" Peter didn't look up.

Happy drummed the steering wheel as he contemplated how to proceed. "For the record... I don't believe anything that's been said on the news tonight," he said quietly but with conviction. He knew the web-slinger needed to hear it clearly. "I had a suspicion even before you started remembering things that what happened up on that building wasn't accidental. I had a feeling that someone had attacked the two of you. And I _damn_ well know that you would _never_ do anything to hurt Tony. I know better than most that he can be incredibly frustrating and a pain in the ass, but even still, I know you wouldn't do anything like that. Believe me, buddy, I know you're innocent in all this. And I don't think Tony's dead, either. I'll need to see some pretty hard evidence of that, and even then, I'd question it."

Despite himself, Peter raised his gaze as a small, shaking smile appeared on his face and a thin line of moisture formed in his eyes. Just to hear that _someone_ wasn't jumping to conclusions about his guilt, even though he couldn't remember everything yet, made it a little easier to breathe. He could've cried in relief as that tight feeling in his chest eased just a little. "Th-thanks, Happy..." he muttered, his voice cracking a little with unshed tears. "For... for everything. For... coming for me, for staying at the hospital when you didn't have to, and... and for believing me now..."

The head of security smiled in return as he pulled through the intersection. "You betcha, kid," he replied. "And I guarantee you, the important people are going to know that you didn't do anything of the sort, either. Screw what everyone else says or thinks. Things will be okay, bud, I promise." He paused, the look waning a bit. "And we'll do whatever we have to do to find Tony, too."

Peter sighed heavily. "I... I feel like he's still out there... somewhere..."

Happy spared a quick glance in the rearview mirror again. "Which is why we'll find him, kid."

Something about the man's conviction made him feel just a little bit better, and Peter settled back in his seat as he looked out the window at the darkening sky and rested his forehead against the cool pane. But then, his eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. "Happy?" he asked.

"Yeah, kid?"

"You, uh... you missed the way to get to my apartment," Peter informed him, pointing back at the intersection they'd just passed. "The way to get to Queens is that way..."

"I know." Happy reached out and turned on the radio to his favorite all-seventies rock station that the teen was growing so accustomed to. "I'm not taking you home yet."

"Where are we going, then?"

The only answer he got was another small smile reflected in the rearview mirror.

* * *

Miles away, the battered, bruised, and broken body of Tony Stark was dumped unceremoniously on the carpeted floor of a nearly dark room. He didn't stir at the careless treatment, even when the three men who had brought him to this place gathered around him eagerly. He'd lost his dark suit jacket, and the black t-shirt he'd been wearing under it was shredded in a few places. He was also missing a shoe, and the other wasn't in the best condition.

The billionaire was defenseless, oblivious to how these men were closing in on him almost greedily.

"Good, I see you have brought him to me."

The three men all turned to the cushioned armchair they had deposited their captive in front of at the sound of the commanding voice with a slightest trace of an accent, watching as the older man with some light gray hair left on his balding head who sat in it smiled broadly and leaned forward to get a better look. His light gaze passed over Tony's pale visage, the cuts and bruises that were already starting to appear on his face, and the blood that leaked from his hairline and marred other parts of his features and arms. He watched as his chest briefly rose and fell in fitful breaths, the only indication he was actually still alive. He reached down, lightly touching the unconscious man's forehead, feeling it was a bit warm and covered in a sheet of sweat.

Tony's brow furrowed in a sign of distress while his head moved ever so slightly as the whisper of a pained sound passed through his lips, but he then became still again and did not wake.

The man's smile broadened.

"Prepare the room for our guest of honor," he said, raising his gaze to the younger man nearest him. "Though tend to some of these more... threatening injuries first. This one here looks particularly nasty." He removed his hand from Tony's forehead before trailing it down to one of the holes in his shirt, using his fingers to move the bloodied cloth aside to reveal a gunshot wound in his side.

"How did he get this?" the older man asked curiously.

The younger man chuckled. "Saving the kid," he answered. "He jumped in front of it. Though it was unneeded, as we were never going to kill the brat."

"Interesting. So the mighty Iron Man has a moral, selfless bone in his body after all. Yes, that's very interesting that he'd risk his own life for the safety of the boy... I wonder what makes him so special? We'll have to find out more." The older man then tore his eyes from Tony's ashen face and looked back at the younger. "Definitely get this taken care of before he bleeds out."

The dark-haired man he addressed directly nodded once. "Yes, doctor." He turned to leave, the metal of his left arm catching the dim light briefly as he walked away to get what he needed.

As the other two men dispersed to prepare for the tasks they now had ahead of them, passing by yet another light-haired, clean-shaven man who was pulling a pit bull along with him on a leash, the doctor once again regarded the motionless Tony. His grin returned, his fingers tapping the handle of his cane almost eagerly.

"Yes, Mr. Stark, do not worry. You will be well tended," he murmured, the look broadening as a gleam appeared in his eye. "After all, we do not want you to die on us too soon."

 **Author's Note** : So, we've got a bit of a cliffhanger here again (sorry, guys!) :-P But Tony's at least alive! For the time being, at any rate. Who knows what this mysterious doctor has in mind for him... And Peter's starting to remember things, and he's already got a couple allies in Happy, Pepper, and Rhodey! Will it be enough to find Tony? We'll have to find out as we keep going! Thanks for reading, guys! As always, feedback is appreciated! Until next time! :-)


	5. Chapter 5- Dream Come True

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Wow, you guys! What can I say? I'm thrilled by your enthusiasm for this story, and I'm so happy that you guys like it so much! :-D Thank you to everyone for the wonderful reviews, favorites, and follows, you guys encourage me so much to keep going down this crazy path with this story!

In response to **PKWolf014** : Thank you so much for your awesome review! :-D Your compliments mean a lot to me! As well as that you think this is epic (always good for a MCU fic, yes? Lol)! Yup, Tony's alive, which is a good thing (I can't blame you for the worry... and I can't promise that that feeling isn't gonna go away completely). No, his kidnappers aren't great people, and by all means, please go kick them (twice)! They deserve it. Thank you so much, I'm glad that you love my voices for these characters– the compliment that I'm getting them perfectly is one I take to heart, since characterization is something I really focus on and try to get as well as I can. So, I'm so glad to hear that! I hope that you like this chapter as well and it lives up to your expectations! Thank you so much for saying so, I'm glad you think that about this story! :-)

In response to **Lw117149** : Thank you so much for your review! :-D Poor Tony indeed, I feel bad for him, I do... Lol, Peter will be remembering more soon! I'm so happy to hear that you love this story! I hope you continue to with this chapter, too! :-)

Also, muchas gracias to **CoffeeRanger** for her input on part of this chapter (and yes, definitely, I may now have to write that oneshot about Happy vs the meter maid now xD)! I love that our Plot Bunnies are long lost relatives, that tends to work out really well when it comes to writing ;-) I hope this lives up to your expectations, my dear friend!

All right, I won't keep you guys any longer! I hope you enjoy! :-)

 _Chapter 5– Dream Come True_

"Um, Happy?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"You didn't mention that we were coming _here_."

Happy glanced over from where he was carefully taking the brown paper bag containing the incredibly expensive Spider-Man suit and the drug rehabilitation pamphlets he was looking forward to getting rid of as soon as they got inside off the passenger seat. Peter was standing at the foot of their destination, looking up at its towering height in what could only be described as absolute awe.

"What?" the head of security wondered with a slight shrug, glancing up at the top of the brightly lit building set against the dark sky himself. "It's just a tower that Tony initially built to be part of Stark Industries in this area. Being a leader in clean energy and all that..."

The teen looked over his shoulder at him, almost as though he were in disbelief that anyone could be so indifferent about _this_ building. "Yeah, but then it became _Avengers Tower_ ," he told him as though that fact made all the difference in the world. And to him, it kinda did. After all, ever since the events in New York a few years back, he'd wasted away many hours daydreaming about having been in Manhattan when Loki had led the Chitauri alien invasion on the city, fighting alongside Iron Man, Thor, Hulk, Hawkeye, Black Widow, and Captain America against the extraterrestrial army...

Though, he conceded, he had to admit that he never would have guessed he'd get these... spider powers from some freak incident involving a radioactive spider bite a little under a year ago, but that was neither here nor there. The fact of the matter was, he'd always dreamed of being an Avenger since all the news stories broke after the great battle of New York. That he was actually standing in the spot where it all began, right beneath where that wormhole had been opened, the one that Iron Man had brought the bomb through, was mindblowing to him.

Happy, however, seemed much less enthused about this location. Though the more Peter thought about it, he couldn't recall ever seeing him truly happy. "Not for much longer, I'm afraid," the former replied.

The web-slinger's brow furrowed in disappointment. "Why not?"

"Well, we've got that new facility upstate now to house everyone, and Tony didn't see the point in keeping both buildings," he explained as he shut the car door. Plus, he added to himself, the less time his former boss spent around the site of the alien attack and the wormhole he went through, the better. "So we've been packing up the rest of the stuff here to transfer it over. My first real duty as the new asset manager... And Tony was working on finalizing the sale of the Tower before... well, before what happened down by the ferry today."

With a frown, Peter turned to look up at the giant glowing "A" toward the top of the building again. Even though he had no personal connection to the Tower himself, he couldn't deny his feeling of loss knowing it was no longer going to be what it once was. It was so iconic...

He was brought out of his thoughts when a hand landed lightly on his shoulder from behind, and he gave Happy a small smile as the latter approached the front doors to unlock them. "Is that why there's no one here?" the teen asked as he followed him into the lit but eerily empty lobby. "No one's working here anymore?"

Happy sighed to himself as they crossed the room to the elevator. "There's someone here," he answered, using his security I.D. and entering a pass code on the wall before pushing the "up" button. "She's been helping us pack up some stuff, and she's a... uh... close, personal friend of ours."

Peter looked over at him curiously as they continued to wait. A mischievous smirk appeared on his face. "She your girlfriend or something, Happy?"

At this, Happy let out a sharp, boisterous bark of a laugh that startled the web-slinger. For a while, he hadn't thought it possible a sound like that could come out of this particular man. "What? I was just wondering..."

But Happy just brushed aside his words. "Nah, don't worry, kid," he said, still chuckling for a moment before a more somber look passed over his face. "But no, she isn't... _my_ girlfriend. A good friend, though. And she's the CEO of Stark Industries, so she's the one who's really running everything around here... After being Tony's personal assistant as long as she was, she was someone he could fully trust to do so. And those people come few and far between, let me tell ya, kid..."

And that was when Peter understood. He dropped his gaze as an undeniable feeling of guilt swept through him. Even though that didn't explain why the billionaire would hit on his aunt the way he had, he had a sneaking suspicion who this woman was, sensing that he wasn't too far off. Happy didn't seem to notice his change in demeanor.

Finally, the double doors slid open, and the head of security grumbled under his breath about how long it had taken as he stepped inside the elevator, Peter slowly following behind and feeling somewhat numb. Happy hit the button for the top floor, and the doors slid closed again behind them.

Silence pervaded the small space as the teen watched the numbers gradually increase as they made their way up, and he couldn't stop the small smile from returning, along with his sense of wonder and anticipation. He was here, he was actually _here_. Even though the Tower wasn't exactly what it used to be and would be no longer, it was still surreal to be standing in the place of so many of his childhood daydreams.

Then, he noticed what was in the man's hand other than the shopping bag.

"What's that?"

Happy followed Peter's gaze to the pamphlets and shook his head briefly. "Nothing important," he muttered, attempting to hide them from sight. "They're, uh... resources for rehab if someone's using drugs."

"Why would you...?" But then, the implication of his words slapped him full in the face, and Peter's eyes widened as he looked up at the head of security. "Happy, I _didn't_ do any drugs, I swear!"

"I know you didn't, kid," Happy replied with clear irritation, but Peter could tell it wasn't directed at him. "And I tried to tell that to your know-it-all doctor at the ER, but he insisted. However..." He hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to put the rest of what had to be said. "There _were_ traces of a hallucinogenic drug... a gas... in your system. Any idea where that could have come from?"

The web-slinger slowly started to shake his head before he paused. "Wait," he muttered, taking his bottom lip between his teeth thoughtfully. "Remember that smoke I told you I remembered that came out of that weird ball thing? The stuff that Mr. Stark and I were caught in? Do you think that was what that was? A hallucinogenic?" That would _certainly_ explain what he'd seen, or thought he'd seen, on top of that building.

Happy nodded once. "Wouldn't surprise me at all."

"But I don't get why someone would use..." Peter's thoughts trailed off as his eyes narrowed in confusion. "I mean, I saw..."

Happy raised a curious eyebrow. "Saw what?" he pressed slowly.

However, Peter slowly shook his head, trying to clear the final image he had of his Uncle Ben from his mind. "N-nothing important," he told him. "But I don't get why someone would use that stuff..."

The head of security decided to drop the matter for now. "Well, there could be a number of reasons for that, kid," he muttered. "If someone truly did want to ambush the two of you, which it sounds like is the case, it'd serve as a great distraction, for starters..."

Peter met his gaze uncertainly, and Happy found himself reminded of just how _young_ this kid was. The fifteen-year-old was bearing a weight that he shouldn't have to. "Do you... do you think it was anyone who I've been trying to track down? The... the guy with metal wings or anyone who's working for him...?" he wondered in nearly a whisper, his tone cracking ever so slightly. "If... if Mr. Stark got hurt because of me..."

Happy let out a long breath, his gaze faltering. "I'm not gonna lie to you, kid, I honestly don't know the answer to that," he said quietly. "I don't know much about... this guy with metal wings. But that's what we're gonna figure out. Okay? And don't you worry. We'll find Tony. You'll see."

 _One way or another..._

Peter nodded despite how miserable he still looked, but then, his head snapped up in panic. "Happy! Aunt May can't know about this! The... the hallucinogenic and all..."

"No sweat, kid," Happy assured him. "Since you didn't have any life-threatening injuries or anything like that, she won't even have to know about the ER visit unless you tell her. I've got that covered through the _Stark internship_ and what not. She'll never see a bill."

"Thank God..." Undeniable relief crossed the teen's face as he leaned back against the back wall of the elevator. "I have no idea how I'd even _begin_ to explain the hallucinogenic in my system to her... Th-thank you for that, by the way, Happy. Covering the cost..."

"Don't mention it, kid." Happy allowed a small smile to appear at the corner of his lips. "Speaking of, though, you'd better let her know you're going to be home a little later tonight. We thought it'd be good for you to stay here for a little bit, just to make sure that there aren't any lingering effects from the gas and that it's truly out of your system. If your aunt saw you now, she'd probably know that something wasn't quite right. So, I hope you have a story you can tell her."

The web-slinger nodded, confident he could come up with something other than his actual current location to tell his aunt. After all, his best friend Ned Leeds was always a go-to. But then, his frown returned. "Happy?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"I'll have to use your cell phone."

"... Why?"

"I don't have mine. And the suit's in the bag..."

Happy sighed. "Okay, you can use it when we get up there," he muttered. For all of Tony Stark's technological genius, even _he_ hadn't been able to solve the problem of no cell phone reception in elevators. "Where is your phone?"

"In my backpack."

"Which is...?"

"Uh... hidden in an alleyway in Queens. Along with my school stuff, and a change of clothes."

Happy stared blankly at the ascending numbers as they neared the top floor. "I suppose you'd like me to grab that for you?" he deadpanned.

Peter gave him a sheepish smile. "Before it's stolen," he replied. "And as well as it worked in a pinch, I'd rather not stay in Hello Kitty sweatpants for longer than I have to... And... and I do have homework I can do here... It's due tomorrow..."

"Fine." Happy heaved another sigh as the elevator finally came to a stop, the doors sliding open a couple seconds later. "Just give me the exact address, and I'll get right on it."

The head of security immediately stepped out of the elevator, but Peter stayed frozen to the spot as he looked around the large, spacious, brightly lit room stretched out before him. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open as his gaze passed over the couple of fully-stocked mini-bars, all of the couches and chairs, the lightly spiraled staircase that led up to a second level, and finally to the tall, large windows across the room from him that overlooked the city below.

"Holy shit..."

Happy stopped when he realized he wasn't being followed, and he glanced over his shoulder back at him. "Coming, kid?" he asked. "Or are you just gonna stay in the elevator all night?"

"Oh! Right. Sorry." Peter scrambled out of the elevator, just as the double doors began to slide closed. But the awed smile returned to his face as he found himself in the room he was sure was larger than his apartment, still not able to believe he was actually standing in the place he'd always dreamed of being.

Happy rolled his eyes with a little chuckle as he carefully set the paper bag down on the nearest cushioned chair before looking for a place to properly dispose of the rehab pamphlets.

"Oh, Happy! You're back! Good, we were getting worried."

Peter turned at the sound of the pleasant female voice, and his smile slowly vanished as that nagging feeling of guilt returned. The head of security had been wrong, he realized, as he watched not one but two people walk toward him from the direction of one of the mini-bars, both holding a drink in their hand.

The person who had spoken was a tall, slender woman wearing a pair of dark, form-fitting jeans with a tight black and white t-shirt, her long, strawberry blonde hair tied back in a loose ponytail that hung over her shoulder. Her feet were bare. Beside her was a man he recognized very well– a nearly bald, dark-skinned man wearing a casual pair of jeans and a navy blue t-shirt. On his legs were a pair of what appeared to be black mechanical braces...

The fight against Captain America that Tony had recruited and brought him to Germany for came rushing back to him, and he remembered how Colonel James Rhodes, or War Machine, had suffered a serious back injury after falling from a great height and had been paralyzed from the waist down. He was glad to see that the older man seemed to be able to walk around okay with those braces, but he was also on high alert since even though they had been on the same side during the airport bunker battle, he was one of the Avengers who didn't know his true identity. Until that moment, it had been only Tony and Happy...

He knew they must have both noticed his ridiculous, oversized, and mismatched outfit, but neither one said a word about it. Recognition seemed to flash in Rhodey's dark eyes, and he leaned closer to the woman. " _That's_ Spider-Man?" he whispered, but Peter could still barely pick up what he was saying as the woman nodded once. "I knew he was young, but..." He sighed, briefly shaking his head before muttering, mainly to himself, "Damn it, Tony..."

The teen felt his hands curl into fists, suddenly feeling the need to defend himself. So what if he was fifteen? It didn't mean he couldn't do this. He may have been young, but with his abilities...

Though then, he forced his hands to relax as his argument with Tony, which felt like a lifetime go now, echoed in his mind, and he dropped his gaze. The billionaire had been right, he knew. About his actions, about his age. Everything. Maybe he _had_ been crazy to recruit a fifteen-year-old kid after all, since that same kid had gotten him hurt or worse...

But before anything else could be said, Happy appeared beside him. "Yup, we're here," he announced, setting a hand on the web-slinger's tense shoulder. "Guys, this is Peter Parker."

Rhodey gave him a nod and a small smile. "Good to see you again, kid," he said.

Peter looked up at him, startled. "Yeah, y-you, too," he managed to reply with a slight wave. "Glad to see you're, um, doing okay..." He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah, you guys know about... about Spider-Man... Mr. Stark's been, uh... been sort of mentoring me..."

"Relax, kid, it's all right." Rhodey's smile broadened. "Your secret's safe with us. Believe me, be glad you don't have to deal with what the rest of us do with being recognized everywhere you go. That can be a pain, let me tell you..."

Despite himself, Peter chuckled, though the sound was slightly nervous. "I... I can imagine that would be, yeah..."

Then, the woman beside him took a few steps forward with a welcoming smile of her own, and the teen's stomach dropped. "Hi, Peter, my name's Pepper Potts," she told him. "I'm the CEO of Stark Industries. Tony's told me a lot about you, so it's good to finally meet you."

"Y-yeah... you, too, Ms. Potts..."

When she held out her free hand for him to shake, when he heard the kindness in her voice directed at him, that was when he finally lost it. Everything that had happened over the past couple of hours– the near disaster on the ferry, the argument with Tony, the ambush, seeing Uncle Ben because of the stupid gas, the explosion, not knowing what happened to Tony but knowing he was being blamed for his possible death, the gas being in his system, the ER visit, suspecting who this woman was, all of it– was just too much. Tears that had been restrained for far too long finally rose to his eyes and spilled over with force. Instead of shaking her proffered hand, he quickly buried his head in his hands and looked away in attempt to try to muffle the sounds and hide the unbridled emotion that he wished he could stop.

"I'm s-sorry, Ms... Ms. Potts..." he mumbled, frantically wiping at his eyes. "I... I didn't mean to... to do this..."

Pepper's features softened as she glanced at Rhodey next to her, seeing his own were full of sympathy, before looking to Happy to see that his brow was furrowed in concern as they all regarded the distraught teen between them. She let out a quiet breath as she handed her drink to the colonel before reaching out and lightly wrapping her arms around him.

Peter didn't care how weak he appeared in that moment when he was supposed to be Spider-Man as he leaned into her embrace and tightly clutched onto her while he allowed the dam to continue to break as more tears escaped from him. This contact with another person who didn't seem to be blaming him for this whole mess was something he needed. The CEO pulled him even closer, reaching a hand up to gently guide his head down to rest on her shoulder as she delicately ran her fingers through his hair in a soothing motion. That simple gesture broke him more than he already had, realizing it was okay to feel as though everything was collapsing around him, that he didn't always have to be the strong one, that there were these adults who could help support him now so he wasn't alone as he faced his now horrifying reality...

"I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark."

Pepper used her other hand to rub gentle circles into his back. "It's okay," she murmured as he struggled to catch his breath. "I know you didn't... It'll be okay, I promise..."

Happy watched them sadly before Rhodey approached him with a sigh. "I guess I just never really realized _just_ how young the kid actually was," he said to the head of security quietly with a brief shake of his head. "Much too young to be shouldering all that happened. Being blamed for Tony's death, and all..."

"I know," Happy agreed. "But I think this was the right place to bring him for now. He'll be safe here. And I think he'll be okay when he gets all this out. Kid's been holding it in since I found him..."

"Not surprised..."

Happy sighed as he glanced over at the colonel. "I'm gonna head back out for a bit," he told him. "I've gotta pick up the kid's backpack in Queens, and then I was gonna swing by the harbor again to see if I could find any clues as to Tony's whereabouts."

"I think I'd like to come with you for that," Rhodey replied. "We could possibly find more with two pairs of eyes. And honestly, I'm itching to do something to find him instead of just sitting around here."

"You sure?" Happy couldn't help but glance down at the braces on the other man's legs.

Rhodey sent him a look full of irritation. "Yes, I'm sure," he snapped in a tone that made his friend raise his hands in defense. "I'm not an invalid, Happy. I'm moving around just fine, thank you. Besides, your security badge may do you good here, but my status as colonel... and, y'know, _War freaking Machine_... may be more beneficial at the scene."

Happy saw the look of friendly competition in the smirk the other man was giving him, and he couldn't help but return it with a chuckle. "Fine, fine, you can come along."

"You had no choice in the matter, my friend."

Continuing to chuckle, Happy then turned to where Pepper was still trying to console the web-slinger, and his face fell. "Peps, we're going to pick up something for Peter and see if we can find anything else at the harbor. Do you have everything under control here?"

Pepper nodded with a small, sad smile, a thin line of tears in her own eyes. "We'll be fine here," she assured him. "Let me know about anything you find, okay?"

"You've got it," Happy said as Rhodey nodded his agreement. Then, he turned his attention to who she was holding in her arms. "Hey, kid? Don't forget to call your aunt, okay? To tell her why you'll be home a bit later? And it'll take us a little while to get to Queens, so tell Pepper where your backpack is, and she'll text it to us. Okay?"

Peter nodded, not raising his head from Pepper's shoulder. "O-okay, Happy..."

Happy's sighed as he turned to Rhodey. "You ready?" he asked.

The colonel nodded. "Whenever you are," he answered, setting his and Pepper's drinks down on a nearby low table. "Let's go see if we can figure out where Tony disappeared to."

"Let's just hope we find _something_..."

"Amen to that."

Then, the two men made their way over to the elevator, stepping inside before Happy pushed the button for the bottom floor. They got one more look at Pepper saying something to Peter in effort to calm him before the doors slid closed.

* * *

Somehow, Pepper still found it somewhat strange that with all the advanced technology Tony either owned or had created, he still kept something as simple as the small flip phone she found herself holding gingerly in her hand. But, she also knew it held a special significance to him, whether he was ready to admit it or not.

But he didn't have to say a word about it. She could tell by how he looked at it and by how carefully he'd handle it that it had significance. That and he would usually bring it with him between the new facility and the Tower, leaving it wherever he would be spending the most time. It was almost as though he didn't want to be caught without it in case he'd ultimately need to make a call on it, even though she suspected it would take something major for him to actually do so.

Or, perhaps he kept it close in case it ever rang.

The CEO wasn't sure which possibility unnerved, or even potentially invigorated, him more. But either way, it was clear Tony didn't want to be overly far away from that phone. Just in case.

Sighing, she glanced over at the couch where Peter had stretched out, waiting for Happy and Rhodey to return with his backpack of things and hopefully some more answers about what could have happened to Tony. She would have asked him some questions about what he remembered since Happy hadn't given her much information in his text when they were leaving the hospital, but the teen was still much too shaken up to talk about any of it, she could see that clearly. She'd wait until he was ready to bring up that conversation.

Once the tears had finally stopped and he'd managed to calm himself down enough to take full breaths and start stringing sentences together, Pepper had turned on the television to give him something to watch– other than the news blaming him for the terrible incident that happened down at the harbor, which she now had no doubt was completely false– while he'd made himself comfortable on the couch and asked almost shyly for a glass of water since he hadn't had anything to drink since the incident and his throat was super dry. He'd then managed to call his Aunt May to explain that he'd be home a little later than usual since he'd be at his best friend Ned's house for a few hours to finish up a project for school that was due later in the week, and though from the sound of it she hadn't been thrilled, she'd eventually agreed. The CEO had then been able to text Happy the location of where the web-slinger had hidden his backpack so if he felt up to it, he could get that homework that was due the next day finished before going home to get a good night's sleep. She knew he needed that more than anything, especially because it hadn't been too long after he'd stretched out on the couch when he'd dozed off, a light snore coming from him as his empty water glass hung loosely in his grasp where his arm dangled over the cushion.

A small smile appeared on her face as she quickly but carefully took the cup from him so he wouldn't drop it, setting it on the nearby table before she made sure the light blanket she'd draped over him was tucked securely. She then turned away and returned to the table where Tony had been keeping the flip phone.

There was no return address on the FedEx box the device had been sent in, though Pepper did notice with amusement that the "r" in "Stark" looked a bit too much like an "n" to not have a hilarious outcome. The envelope, blank aside from the word "Tony" written neatly on the front, that had come with it didn't give her any other clues as to who had sent him the package. She tentatively lifted it, her slender fingers hesitating on the already opened seal.

She was sure about who had sent it, but something deep down had the need to see it for herself. It went against every fiber of her being to open someone else's mail, even if that other person happened to be the man she had so intimately shared her life with for so long. But if there was anything else that the contents inside could provide that could possibly help the man she still loved in some way now when he was in danger...

A beat passed where she took a deep breath before she carefully lifted the flap and slid the piece of folded paper out. After smoothing it out a bit, she saw that it wasn't very long, nor was it signed. Which she had expected. But it was written in the same neat handwriting as Tony's name on the envelope, and with mounting unease, Pepper began to read.

 _Tony–_

 _I'm glad you're back at the compound. I don't like the idea of you rattling around a mansion by yourself. We all need family..._

By the time she reached the end, she was doubly certain that her suspicions about who had sent the package to Tony were correct, given everything that he himself had told her about what happened while she had been gone. The letter didn't need to be signed, its author had been spelled out plainly to her in its contents. She knew exactly who this was, as she knew that Tony did.

The CEO then looked down at the small flip phone she held, studying it carefully. It was disposable. Untraceable. Smart. But as she continued to stare at the device, the last words the other man had written repeated again in her mind.

 _So no matter what, I promise you, if you need us, if you need me, I'll be there._

Almost as though her hands were working on their own accord, Pepper slowly flipped the phone open, gazing at the lit screen with the stock beach photo set as the background. Would this– Tony missing and being presumed _dead_ – fall under that category that was described in the letter? The billionaire certainly needed help now, that dread deep within her was constantly telling her that...

With slightly trembling fingers, she began to move across the keypad, knowing that the number to call had to be in the contact list. But then, she took a deep breath as she stopped herself. No, she couldn't do it. She wanted to do everything in her power to help Tony, but calling this man... she couldn't bring herself to do _that_. Not in his... current predicament. Besides, Peter was there, and Rhodey and Happy would hopefully return soon with _something_ to go off of. The four of them should be able to find Iron Man and bring him back home. They just _had_ to. She wouldn't accept anything less.

Although... aside from her, there was the head of security of Stark Industries, a traumatized fifteen-year-old web-slinger, and a not-at-one-hundred-percent War Machine. While not at full strength, she recognized that more help could possibly be needed at some point, but calling this number, reaching this man... it was a risk she couldn't afford to take, for his own sake.

Would Tony even _want_ her to? Would he want her to reach out to this man after everything that had happened between the two of them...?

Letting out the breath she'd been holding, Pepper slowly closed the small flip phone and carefully set it back down on the table next to the FedEx box. She neatly slipped the letter back into its envelope and returned it to its place underneath the device. She gazed at the three items for a moment longer before she turned to check on Peter again to make sure he was doing okay.

That was when the phone began to ring.

 **Author's Note** : So... that's that! Peter's got some more allies, and... there's an unexpected phone call coming in. How will this go? We'll see! Thanks for reading! As always, your feedback is much appreciated! Until next time! :-)


	6. Chapter 6- The Nomad

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Hey, guys! Thank you for all the reviews, follows, and favorites, they mean a lot to me! :-) I'm still just so thrilled that you guys are enjoying this story as much as I am writing it! Just a couple quick things before we start. As evidenced by the ending of the last chapter, we have another character coming into play here. I just wanna make a quick **disclaimer** that as this is an AU, it's not necessarily compliant with the direction the MCU is headed in terms of said character, lol. He's back a little early, and an explanation for what he's doing back early will be covered as we continue. So, just a little head's up there! Also, you guys asked for it, so we'll have a little more of what happened to Tony in this chapter (there will be quite a bit more with him in the next chapter, I promise you that!). With all that said, I hope you enjoy! :-)

 _Chapter 6– The Nomad_

Pepper stared wide-eyed at the small flip phone, its tiny screen lighting up as it continued to ring. For a moment, she just stood in place, uncertain of what to do. There really weren't too many people who would be calling that number... But she wasn't sure if that made her want to answer it more or to just let it go.

After all that had happened... could _she_ even talk to him?

Granted, she'd had a lot of time to sit and reflect on what had happened between Tony and the man he had once considered one of his most trusted friends when it came to what had truly happened to Howard and Maria Stark. She had been angry to hear about it, sure, at least to a degree. After all, this man had known the truth about that night, had kept it from the billionaire, and had fought against him to a point where Tony had had to spend a little time in a Siberian hospital for his injuries. If he had only told him the truth from the start, if only Tony had known the fault of the accident hadn't rested with Howard to save him from so much misplaced resentment, maybe things wouldn't have gotten nearly so out of hand.

But at the same time, she also understood, to a degree. It hadn't been his intention to harm Tony, she could tell from his letter that he regretted keeping the truth a secret. That he regretted how he had been attempting to spare himself the pain of losing Tony if he had told him to begin with, but also knowing that it would have been the better route to prevent how damaging the fallout had become since it had resulted in the same outcome.

But still, something told her that, as hard as it was to see now, things would once again be okay between these two men who, despite themselves, had formed a close friendship. She knew Tony could understand why the other man had done what he had, but it was just going to take some more time for him to come to terms with all that had happened and figure out how to move forward.

Though at this point, that sort of time was something they _didn't_ have.

 _Stark Presumed Dead_.

The headline that was so burned into her memory flashed before her eyes again. That was the last thing she needed to determine her course of action.

She hurried over to the table as quietly as possible so she wouldn't wake the slumbering teenager and managed to grab the phone and flip it open just before it rang for the final time. Her breath quickening, she stared down at where it was resting in her palm, and for a brief moment, she wondered if she had truly made the right decision. But there wasn't time to question that now, and so with a slightly trembling hand, she slowly brought the small device up to her ear. She took a deep breath to steady herself before speaking.

"He-hello?"

A moment passed before she heard the man's quiet, almost uncertain response. _"... Pepper?"_

A rush of emotion crashed over the CEO then, taking the breath out of her as she nearly dropped the phone. A thin line of tears formed in her eyes, and she worried her bottom lip between her teeth to keep them from spilling over. Knowing who was going to be on the other end was one thing; actually hearing the man's voice was another all together. She wasn't sure which feeling to focus on first, as she could hardly even determine what each of them were– anger, regret, sorrow, frustration, a little guilt... relief.

Blinking furiously, Pepper gripped the device a bit tighter as she closed her eyes and managed to murmur, "St-Steve..."

 _"Are you all right?"_ His gentle concern was clear. It was a sound that almost made her lose her resolve– almost. She hadn't met the Super Soldier too many times, but she'd liked him on the occasions she had. He'd always been a polite gentleman to her. And with as genuine as his tone was now, she knew the sentiment went both ways. _"I... I happened to catch the news report about Tony..."_

Pepper knew she was anything _but_ all right, but she wasn't sure how she could sum up everything she was feeling into a few words. "I-I'm okay," she insisted instead as she cleared her throat, forcing the rest of her tears back. "I'm okay. We saw it, too..."

There was a moment of silence before Steve Rogers spoke again. _"Are you at the compound, then?"_ he wondered, and she was inwardly grateful that he hadn't asked further about the news report yet. _"That's where this phone was sent. Honestly, I'm a little surprised that Tony didn't just get rid of it when he realized it was from me. But I thought I'd give it a shot now, just in case I could reach somebody..."_

"The Tower in the city, actually," Pepper corrected. "I've, uh, been helping Tony to pack everything up to bring to the new facility. He actually brings the phone with him to where he'll be spending more time. He's been doing a lot of thinking about... everything, but he hasn't talked about it much. Not even to me."

 _"I wouldn't expect him to,"_ Steve replied, and she thought she could almost detect a hint of a smile in his voice underneath the regret that was there. _"But I'm glad to hear that he's at the compound most of the time, anyway. And that you're around, too. He needs that. People."_

Despite herself, Pepper couldn't stop the small smile that appeared on her face. "He needed a friend, so I thought I could be one for him," she told him. "I'm glad he went back there, too. I think it's been better for him to have people around rather than being on his own."

A few minutes of silence passed, and the CEO's gaze traveled to the large windows as she looked out at the bright lights of the city far below. The tightness in her chest that had been there since she'd answered the call began to ease.

Then, Steve sighed. _"I'm sorry for asking this, but... what happened? Is Tony...?"_

"I... I'm honestly not sure," Pepper answered as she let out a long breath of her own. "Not entirely. All I can say for sure is I _really_ don't think the news is accurate here. This wasn't Spider-Man's doing. But I really don't know what happened... One of our trusted friends found the kid, and he's actually here at the Tower with me. But not Tony..."

 _"I was honestly surprised to see he was even being blamed,"_ Steve muttered almost thoughtfully. _"We didn't really get along overly well when we met, granted, but he's a good kid. Lot of heart. Reminds me of myself a little when I was his age in terms of wanting to prove myself... But he was loyal to Tony, no doubt about it. He wouldn't just do what this person is saying he did. If anything, Tony likely... well, I know he wouldn't want to admit it, but if it came down to it, he more than likely told the kid to leave him and escape to safety."_

Pepper let out a long, shuddering breath as she briefly closed her eyes. Yes, she knew that well about the billionaire. He may have walked around with an aloof, almost uncaring front most of the time, but when it came down to it, he would put the lives of others before his own, especially if that person was someone he cared about. It was something she had always seen in him, even before he saw it in himself. And Peter was someone he cared very much about, she knew that well.

Yes, that very well may be what had happened...

Seeming to sense her distress, Steve quietly cleared his throat. _"Was there any sort of report of a third party up on the roof with them?"_ he asked, attempting to offer a bit of a distraction.

"Oh, um, no, I don't think the guy said anything about there being anyone else," Pepper answered, forcing herself to get a grip. "From what I remember, he said that Spider-Man was up there, Tony joined him, they seemed to get into some sort of heated argument, and then Spider-Man left, leaving Tony behind as the... the explosion hit..."

 _"So that initial theory of a gas leak or equipment failure isn't seeming very likely,"_ the Super Soldier mused, mainly to himself, before he continued. _"But again, something about that account doesn't sit well with me. Even if they did argue, Spider-Man leaving Tony behind to die just... well, it's rather extreme. It just... doesn't fit."_

"No, it doesn't," Pepper agreed, realizing they were starting to go in circles since there really wasn't much else to go on. "Happy... that friend of ours... went to the scene to check it out. He told me it seems like Pe... Spider-Man may have gotten at least somewhat caught in the explosion, too. He took him to the emergency room to get checked out, but he seems to be okay. Just really shaken, like something else happened when they were up there... Something's scaring him. And Happy seems to have found out something from him that's making him concerned for Spider-Man's safety, too, since he thinks it's best that we keep him in our sights. But I don't know what it is yet, I didn't want to push him into talking..."

Steve was silent for a moment as he mulled this over. _"Yeah, that sounds like there's a very real possibility that this was some sort of ambush of some kind..."_ he said. _"So, either the man couldn't see that someone else may have been there, or..."_

Pepper blinked when his sentence trailed off. "Or?" she prompted.

But he didn't provide an answer, instead wondering, _"And when your friend... Happy... went to check out the scene, he didn't see anything that gave any indication of... where Tony might be?"_

Steve was being careful with his wording, that was obvious. Much like her, he didn't want to give voice to the worst case scenario. Pepper's hand rested lightly over her chest as that slight pain returned. "No..." she murmured. "And we can't reach him, his personal phone is disconnected. Happy's going back now to check out the scene again, but so far... nothing." She paused, taking a deep breath. "I'm... I'm worried about him, Steve... It's not the first time he's been in a similar situation, but he... he normally finds some way to reach me, to let me know he's okay... But not this time... I haven't heard... anything..."

 _"I know, Pepper."_ While Steve's voice was gentle and trying to be reassuring, his concern for the billionaire was also palpable. _"Look, a couple of us aren't overly far from Manhattan. We've sorta been wandering around ever since... well, since everything happened. It's probably best if I don't say the specific location, but it wouldn't take too, too long for us to get to that ferry port. I could take a look around, see what I find. And if I find out anything about Tony's... whereabouts, I'll get back to you."_

"Steve, there's _no_ way I could ask you to do that." Pepper once again looked out the window in the direction of where the thick black smoke, hardly visible against the night sky, was still billowing into the heavens. He _was_ a wanted man, after all. "Not with... all that's going on."

Surprisingly, the Super Soldier chuckled. _"Don't worry about us,"_ he assured her. _"We'll be fine, believe me. If there's anything I can do to help find Tony, I'd rather be doing that than sitting this one out while he's out there somewhere possibly in some sort of trouble. I'm just doing what I know is the right thing. Do you have anyone besides your friend checking up on this?"_

"Rhodey is," Pepper told him. "He's actually out there with Happy now. I'm not sure when they'll get to the harbor because they had to stop in Queens first, but..."

 _"Then let us take a look. Keep the phone close to you, and you'll hear from me with anything we find."_ Steve briefly paused. _"If, for some reason, we'd need to touch base in person..."_

"The Tower." Pepper didn't hesitate. "We're just finishing with packing up everything to move to the new facility. Tony hasn't finalized the sale of this building yet, and this is much safer than the compound. Except for Rhodey and Spider-Man, but that should be okay..."

Steve chuckled again. _"Should be. Unless you've got any plans to turn me in."_

Even though the comment was made lightly in jest, Pepper's gaze faltered as she glanced back at Peter. "Of course not," she said quietly. "I just... Thank you so much for being willing to help find out what happened to Tony, Steve... With the police starting to look into this Spider-Man angle, even though I swear it's completely the wrong direction, it'd be good to have as many people as possible I know that can be trusted looking for the truth."

 _"Someone has to,"_ Steve agreed, his tone no longer containing the light humor it had before. _"And... I know at one time, Tony would have done the same for me."_

 _He still would._

No matter how much she wanted to, no matter how strongly she believed them, Pepper couldn't bring herself to say the words out loud. Not yet.

Steve seemed to recognize the reason behind her silence since he quickly changed the subject. _"I'd better let you go,"_ he said. _"And don't worry. I'll let you know anything we figure out."_

Pepper smiled as she laughed a little herself. "Thank you," she replied. "I've gotta say, that Captain America name really suits you, you know."

There was a long pause, and the CEO wondered what she had said to cause it. _"It's not what I go by anymore, Pepper,"_ he finally muttered. _"I gave that up two months ago when I let go of my shield."_

Her brow furrowed, remembering how Tony had told her Steve had dropped his shield at his feet when the billionaire had claimed his father had made the vibranium weapon so it didn't belong to his former friend, but before she could question further, the call was ended. Pepper quickly flipped the phone closed and slipped it into her back pocket, wanting to keep it on her person if at all possible. She couldn't deny that she felt a little better knowing that Steve was on her side to help find Tony, no matter what he was calling himself now since to her he was just _Steve_. And a friend. Hopefully he could help to bring the billionaire home.

"Who... who were you talking to...?"

The groggy voice startled her, and Pepper quickly turned around to see that Peter had woken up and was blinking sleepily as he looked around the bright, spacious room. She gave him a small smile. "Um, no one, really," she muttered, hoping she sounded casual enough. Though she could tell almost immediately that the web-slinger wasn't sure if he believed her, and she couldn't ignore the bit of dread at the possibility that he may have overheard some of her conversation with the Super Soldier. "How are you feeling?"

"A little better, I think," Peter said as he slowly sat up, keeping the blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders. "Not so lightheaded anymore. Feeling a little stronger."

Pepper's smile broadened. "I can certainly say you're not as pale as you were when you first came here," she replied. "So you're looking a little better, too."

Peter returned the look, though it didn't reach his eyes. "That's good." Then, he glanced around him curiously. "Oh, uh... would it be possible to have some more water? Please? Sorry, my throat's still pretty dry..."

"Oh, of course!" Relieved he wasn't going to ask any more questions about the phone call– had it even been real? It almost didn't feel like it had been– Pepper grabbed the empty glass from where she had set it aside and walked over to the nearest mini-bar. "Happy and Rhodey should be back sometime soon with your things, but I'm not sure if you even want to think about homework or anything right now."

"I kinda do, actually. Some normalcy would be great..." The teen chuckled a little as he watched her add some more ice to his glass, though his brow furrowed when her fingers trembled so badly that she accidentally dropped quite a few cubes on the counter and muttered some curses under her breath as she scrambled to pick them up. The more time he spent around this woman, the more he felt that his initial sense was right in terms of her not just being the CEO of Stark Industries.

"Can I... can I ask you something, Ms. Potts?"

"Sure, Peter." Pepper attempted another smile as she carefully poured some water into the glass. Though even to him, it was obvious that she was fighting to keep her hands steady. "But please, just call me Pepper. No need for you to be so formal. What is it?"

"How... how long have you known Mr. Stark, exactly?"

Pepper paused as she finished pouring, glancing over at him with a look he could only describe as "deer caught in the headlights". So many emotions flitted across her face before she just looked conflicted as she slowly set down the pitcher. "A long time," she finally settled on answering. "I, um, started by working as Tony's personal assistant for quite some time, even before he became Iron Man. After that happened, the... pressure of that job was just too much, and he basically appointed me CEO of his company. Surprisingly, that's been a lot less stressful..."

The web-slinger remembered how Happy had told him that same thing. It hadn't been what he wanted to know. "So, you and Mr. Stark know each other well, then?" he pressed quietly.

A sad look passed over Pepper's pretty features, and that was all Peter needed to know. The guilt he'd been feeling before returned with a vengeance.

"Yes, you can say that," she murmured, her gaze faraway. "You can't know someone that long without getting to know them."

"So... are you two...?"

"Friends," Pepper interrupted promptly with a somber smile. "Good friends. Friends who have made some... mistakes and drifted apart when they shouldn't have, so now they're trying to figure out how to get that friendship back."

Peter watched as she walked around the bar and came back toward the couch with his water glass, not able to meet her gaze. It didn't matter what she said, there was _no_ way she and Tony could have been just friends. With the wistful way she had talked about their friendship, the way her voice had almost lingered on his name a little too long, the way a certain fondness had appeared on her face, and just how worried she'd been since she'd heard about what had possibly happened, he could clearly see that she _loved_ the billionaire. And though Tony had never mentioned her in the time he had known him, he had to wonder if he loved her, too. Despite how he'd hit on Aunt May, of course.

He was brought out of his thoughts when the CEO held the glass out to him. "Here you are," she said pleasantly, her smile returning.

"Th-thank you, Ms. Po... Pepper." Peter returned the look as he accepted it and took a few grateful sips. "Sorry, it's just that my throat's still... well, you know. From the gas and all..."

Concern crossed Pepper's face. "Gas?" she repeated quietly. "What gas?"

Peter paused with the glass halfway up to his mouth for another sip, his eyes widening. "Hap... Happy didn't tell you?" he wondered, his voice cracking a bit.

"No..." Pepper eyed the empty space on the couch next to him. "May I?"

"Oh, y-yeah... Yeah, of course. Please."

The CEO carefully made her way past him before sitting down next to the teen, looking at him carefully. "So, what is this about gas? Did... was that something that happened when you and Tony were down at the ferry, or..."

Peter slowly shook his head, lowering his gaze down to his glass. "No, it... it happened on the roof," he told her, swirling the ice around a bit. "It's one of the things I remembered first..."

"What sort of gas?"

"Happy told me the doctor said it was a hallucinogenic gas," Peter explained, and he heard Pepper's breath catch in her chest. "I don't know... Like, okay. Mr. Stark and I were arguing, he wanted my suit back, which I totally understand. And then we heard something. I don't know what it was, exactly, but then this... little metal ball came rolling over by us. I'm not sure why, but Mr. Stark was _really_ freaked out by it for some reason. And that's when the gas came out of it... And... and I thought I saw..."

Pepper's eyebrows knit together in concern. "Saw what?" she wondered. But when she saw the sorrow appear on the web-slinger's face, she gave him a smile full of understanding. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Peter, it's okay."

But the teen quickly shook his head. "N-no, that's not it, I..." He sighed and closed his eyes, passing a stressed hand over his face. A moment passed before his body started to relax a bit when her hand landed on his back. "Can... can we keep this between us...?"

Though she was surprised, Pepper nodded as she rubbed his back a little. He must have really needed to get this off his chest, and she was glad that she could help with that. "I won't say a word," she promised.

Despite himself, a small smile passed over Peter's face before it disappeared again with a sigh. "Okay, I... I saw my... my Uncle Ben," he told her. "That's when I should have realized that something was weird because he... well, he died about eight, nine months ago now... so..."

Pepper frowned as she rubbed his back again. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said quietly.

Peter nodded, a thin line of tears forming in his eyes. It was an image that was going to haunt him every time he closed his eyes, at least it already had since he saw it. He took a few more sips of water to force the tears back so he could continue. "It's okay... We've been managing..." He cleared his throat, stubbornly rubbing at his damp eyes. "Uh... Mr. Stark saw something, too. But I'm not sure what it was. It, uh, it freaked him out, whatever it was..."

Pepper worried her bottom lip between her teeth, that small twinge of pain returning to her chest once again as she looked away. That was the part that concerned her the most. There was no shortage of options for what Tony could have seen up on that rooftop that would cause him to have that reaction. One of fear, anger, self-loathing... hatred. If he were still wandering around down by the harbor somewhere, possibly hurt and dealing with the effects of a hallucinogenic gas...

Her heart skipped a beat. She quickly glanced at her own phone with a new sense of urgency to see if there was any news from Happy or Rhodey yet, hoping with everything she had in her that there was _something_. _Anything_.

Nothing. Her feeling of dread returned, shaking her to her very core.

"Is... is that all you remember?" she finally managed to ask, her slightly wavering voice full of hesitance. "Or is that all until after the explosion?"

"That... that's it for now..." Peter looked over at her, regret plain in his youthful features. "I... I'm really sorry..."

Pepper could almost physically feel her heart break as she carefully wrapped her arm around the teen and allowed him to lean against her side, his head resting heavily on her shoulder. "It's okay," she murmured, rubbing his arm reassuringly even though it was something she wasn't feeling herself. "It'll be all right, I promise. We'll figure this out." She paused and glanced out the large windows at the still night air.

"Somehow..."

* * *

The dim light caught the metallic surface of his left arm, and Arsen couldn't help but smile when he saw it.

When the doctor had approached him and the others about the new task that needed to be done, they'd all agreed that it would be a worthwhile, as well as fun, undertaking. Their leader had attempted to aid another who'd had the same goal in taking down the Avengers through the information that he had been able to provide to him for his mission, though the other man, while succeeding in beginning to break the super team apart, had ultimately failed to completely destroy Stark, Rogers, and the others. Or rather, had failed in having them destroy themselves.

Which had left the door wide open for them to finish what was started.

After all, it was the perfect time. Stark was weak now. His hands were tied with the restrictions the Sokovia Accords had set in place for him. He had been betrayed by someone he had once believed was a trusted friend, and he was crushed by the heavy truth about Howard and Maria Stark's deaths. The Avengers themselves were broken apart with nothing to unify them. And from observation, it appeared as though this Spider kid was occupying a lot of his attention, therefore providing an ample distraction.

The time to utterly decimate the Avengers was finally dawning. And it would begin with Stark.

Though Arsen couldn't deny that he would do anything the doctor asked of him without question, as long as it wasn't a suicide mission, he had to also begrudgingly admit that he hadn't been fond of the idea of wearing the metallic casing with the red star painted on the shoulder around the entirety of his left arm and hand. And at first, it was exactly what he was afraid it would be– awkward, heavy, and constantly in the way. But it was required for the role his leader needed him to play, and so he had done so without question or complaint.

Though as he continued to adjust to the addition, he had to admit that he was starting to actually enjoy wearing it. He felt stronger with it, his hand sturdier. It had enabled him to get Stark off the building just before it had exploded a bit easier, as well as tending to the more serious injuries he had sustained when they hadn't been able to escape the terrible force completely.

And speaking of their captive...

Arsen glanced down at the still unconscious Tony he held in his metal arm against his side, smirking as he allowed his legs to drag along the steps they were now making themselves down until he reached the door to the basement room where the billionaire would be spending quite a bit of time. It had taken a bit longer to tend to Stark's more life-threatening injuries than he had expected due to having to perform such precise tasks with the metallic hand, but he had been fortunate that the hallucinogenic gas the doctor was famous for rendered a person so physically weak as well, for the other man hadn't stirred once during the procedure. He'd removed the still intact bullet out of their captive's side and stitched up the wound, closed up another good-sized gash on the back of his head, and set a couple cracked ribs that had been dangerously close to snapping. The other injuries he'd left since there was no immediate threat to Stark's life. He would survive.

For now.

And besides, now the _real_ fun could begin.

Arsen pushed open the door to the sealed, tucked away room with his free hand, seeing that his cohorts were already hard at work setting up the space. A couple guys were working together to hang a large, red flag with a very familiar black symbol on the wall beside the door while the blond, clean-shaven man– now without his pit bull– was finishing assembling what appeared to be a car battery. Things were moving along rather nicely.

Depositing their captive none-too-gently on the floor along the far wall, Arsen set to work himself. He immediately removed the watch from Stark's wrist that controlled the portable gauntlet– they couldn't afford to take any chances with it, even though it was smashed– before clamping metallic casings the doctor had given him that would neutralize any frequencies around both of his limp forearms. Even though the room itself was designed to be a dead zone to block any transmissions, they still didn't want to take any chances that an Iron Man suit could be called. Any oversights would cost them dearly.

Then, he glanced up when the blond man approached, lugging the car battery along with him. "This is all ready to go," he informed him, setting the heavier object down before reaching into the bag at his side. "As is this."

Arsen watched curiously as the other man pulled out some wires to attach to the battery before he pulled out a smaller, spherical, metallic object and held it out to him. Grinning, he pushed some strands of his chin-length brown hair behind his ear before reaching out and taking the proffered object. He quickly looked it over before he found the small switch, and his eyes gleamed as it emitted a soft blue light.

"Well done, Bao," Arsen murmured before glancing down at Tony beside them. His grin broadened as he watched the billionaire twitch slightly before going still once more. "Seems as though we're ready to get things started."

He twirled the glowing object between his fingers.

"Let the games begin."

* * *

A slender woman with short blonde hair made her way down the dark, bustling sidewalk, her sharp eyes scanning every curious or frantic face she passed as her ears picked up on the various phone calls being made, the sirens still echoing loudly in the night, and the crackling of the flames far above her. Beside her, his hand in hers with their fingers intertwined, was a tall, well-built man with a full beard and a New York Yankees baseball cap on his head to shield his eyes. The dark jeans, black t-shirt, and black jacket that'd seen better days he wore was a decent look for him, she couldn't help but think with amusement. More than she could say for the pre-ripped jeans, striped blouse, floral-print headband, jean jacket, and black heels she was wearing, but he'd assured her it didn't look half bad. At least it did the job it was supposed to do.

And at least they were at ease enough around each other to keep up appearances as they moved around from place to place. It helped that this also hadn't been the first time they'd been on the run together, and that being undercover was something she was both comfortable and familiar with. For the most part, no one really gave them a second glance, except for the occasional man who made his thoughts way too clear with wandering eyes. Though normally she or her companion could shut that down quickly enough to a point where it didn't concern her. Not that she was concerned for her well-being, she could handle herself fine without breaking one of her newly– annoyingly– manicured nails, but rather what could happen if someone were to get _too_ good of a look at them.

But at the same time, she couldn't help but let out a quiet breath of laughter as she allowed her gaze to pass over their disguises once again. The frilly, preppy rich girl and the strong, brooding mountain man– what a pair they must have made. Fortunately, they were in Manhattan where no one really cared.

Hearing her, the bearded man glanced over at her curiously. "What?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing," she answered lightly as she looked ahead of them again. "Just wondering how we've managed to fool so many people with these ridiculous outfits of ours."

The man chuckled. "Hey, I'm not questioning it," he muttered. "As long as they keep working. That's the important thing."

She just squeezed his hand lightly in return, a gesture he reciprocated.

 _"Okay, Bonnie and Clyde, let's see how close you guys can get to that building fire, shall we?"_ a somewhat irritated voice came through the earpiece they each wore in their left ear. _"That's what we're here for, remember?"_

The man rolled his eyes while the woman just shook her head. "You know you could have come with us," the former replied with a smile.

 _"Nah, y'all know how I hate being the third wheel. Besides, I'm not far in case I need to get you two out of trouble._ And _I get the best seat in the house. Bird's-eye view, baby!"_

Almost on cue, both the man and woman glanced up in time to see what by all appearances could be a normal drone in the darkness as it zipped over their heads toward the flames that were still blazing with force at the top of the building overlooking the harbor. The almost bird-shaped silver and red device that their friend had even affectionately named had come in handy many times for them already, and they were hopeful that its cameras could help them pick up some things here at the scene that they couldn't otherwise find.

 _"Good luck to you both!"_ the voice concluded.

"Thanks," the blonde woman said flatly before turning to the man with her. "Ready?"

"Let's go."

The pair moved forward until they reached a still good-sized crowd that was gathered as close as they could be to the burning building. A quick survey of the onlookers told the woman a couple key things:

Quite a large percentage of the people there had gathered in support of, or to memorialize, Tony judging by all the red and gold Iron Man merchandise she was immediately able to spot. Some were in tears, others enraged. Hastily written signs some were carrying bore things like "I -heart- Tony Stark" and "Justice for Iron Man!" and even some threw blame such as "We hate Spider-Man!" and "Down with the Spider!" They were even starting to chant, both a mantra of support for their hero and one of hate for who may have taken him away. Children were among them, wearing classic Iron Man masks.

There was another somewhat large percentage of the group that had gathered in support of the web-slinger. More hastily made signs protested the young hero's innocence with sayings such as "Hero not killer" and "We love our Spider!" while others said some rather unfavorable things about Tony. Chants of their own went up to combat those from the larger group.

The small percentage that was left was genuinely there just to try to find out what the hell had happened.

Police officers were both barricading the way to the building to keep people back at a safe distance as well as milling about the crowd in effort to keep things from escalating. Tempers were high, and it wouldn't take much for that tension to be pushed to violence.

Reporters were still standing by and seemingly working overtime to cover both the incident itself and the increasingly rowdy crowds that had gathered.

It was a volatile situation, at best.

"Well, we have our work cut out for us," she muttered before she couldn't stop a tiny smirk. "Luckily Stark isn't here. He doesn't need that adoring crowd to boost his ego any further."

The man nodded, a gleam appearing in his eye. He was about to reply before he paused when something a woman in the pro-Tony crowd yelled out. "First it was that _traitor_ Captain America turning against him by standing by that _murderer_ Winter Soldier! And now it's Spider-Man trying to get rid of the competition when _he_ was the reason those people on the ferry almost died in the first place!" Cheers went up around her while protests arose from the pro-Spider-Man group.

The woman felt the man beside her tense before she leaned closer to him, tightening her hold on his hand as she did so. "Don't listen to them," she murmured, setting her free hand on his shoulder. "You know the truth. They don't know the whole story."

He appeared a little hesitant for a brief moment before his gaze hardened. "Let's just get to work," he said, his tone betraying no emotion.

Satisfied, the woman moved away from him again before she began scanning for a weak point in the perimeter. "There." She gave a brief jerk of her head to the right, past the smaller Spider-Man group, where there were only a few officers gathered as they watched the onlookers with a mix of apprehension, annoyance, and being ready for anything.

"All right, you know what to do," the man told her.

"Of course." The woman released his hand long enough to run her thin fingers through her short blond locks, to adjust the cloth headband, and to shift her jean jacket. She then reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a gold ring with a small, simple diamond in its center– the finishing touch of their personas to be used only when needed– and slipped it on the fourth finger of her left hand. Beside her, the man dug a simple gold band out of the pocket of his tattered black jacket and did the same.

She glanced over at him with a hint of a smirk. "Do I look okay?" she wondered.

The man looked up, his gaze passing over the light layer of foundation, dark green eyeshadow, bold mascara, and deep red lipstick she'd applied before they arrived. He shrugged. "You clean up nice," he offered.

She reached out and lightly punched him in the arm as though insulted, a small smile on her face as she took his hand and threaded her fingers through his again. She straightened her shoulders. "Let's do this."

A beat passed before they both ran forward at a respectable, worried pace toward where the few officers were gathered. It was getting much too simple to sprint in these skinny heels, she realized with amusement as the designer purse she may or may not have picked up in a legal manner swung wildly on her arm.

"Officers!" the woman called out, making sure her voice broke for effect as she frantically waved her free hand to get their attention. "Officers!"

All four uniformed men turned to watch as this couple approached them, their near full attention on this clearly distressed woman who appeared to be near tears when she stopped in front of them, seemingly out of breath. They spared a glance at the man a step behind her, who appeared worried himself even though they couldn't see much of his eyes since he kept his gaze lowered beneath the brim of his baseball cap. They looked at him a little warily before turning back to the woman who was basically commanding the attention. In the bright light from the fire blazing above them, they could see the pure terror on her pretty face.

"What's the problem, ma'am?"

The woman swallowed hard before attempting to speak. "It's our son..." she managed to say between her gasps. "See, he's only nine... My husband and I, we let him go on the ferry a little earlier with his aunt and cousins, and... and that was when that _awful_ attack happened... And in all the chaos, we... we haven't been able to find him... We've been looking all evening, but..."

Tears formed in her eyes as she spoke and a couple spilled over, smudging her immaculate make-up. She let go of the man's hand and dug around in her purse, pulling out a Kleenex to dab at her eyes for extra flair.

The bearded man took a couple slow steps back as the officers rushed forward to tend to his distraught "wife". If there was one thing that could usually be counted on, he thought, it was a man's desire to be the knight in shining armor for a damsel in distress. Unfortunately for them, this was one princess who didn't need saving. But to keep up appearances, she let them fawn over her and offer her words of comfort, no matter how much she may have resented it.

"Do you have any idea where your son may have wandered off to, ma'am?"

The woman let out another quiet sob as she set a hand on her chest, discreetly lowering her neckline just a smidge without it being too much. Yes, that was the other distraction that could usually be safely counted on.

"N-no... He... he loves Iron Man, so when we heard..."

"Don't worry, ma'am. We'll find him."

Feeling as though they were sufficiently distracted, the bearded man slipped away from where the officers had gathered around her and made his way past the barricade they had set up, moving out of the light from the fire as quickly as he could as he stuck to the shadows and hurried along the short stone pier that would bring him to the flaming building.

 _"That woman deserves an Oscar."_ The voice was somewhat impressed this time as it broke through the earpiece. _"You_ do _know what that is, right? It means acting job well done."_

The man couldn't help but chuckle, fully aware that she could still hear them, too. "Yeah, well, she's been doing this sort of undercover thing longer than either of us have," he muttered, keeping a sharp eye out for any other emergency personnel or cops. "At least I'm close to the building. How about you? Anything from above?"

The first thing he heard was a sigh. _"It's hard to tell,"_ he replied. _"With all the smoke and the flames not contained yet, not to mention trying to stay out of sight of the firefighters up there and out of the way of hoses... I'm not sure how much I'll get yet._ But _, I'm making sure to get every angle I can with different lenses. So, if there's something to get, I should be able to get it... Especially when I get a chance to enhance the footage later."_

"That works for me. Maybe when things calm down a bit more and the blaze is more under control, we can come back and try again."

 _"Aye-aye, Cap'n!"_

"Don't even start..."

 _"Sorry. Couldn't pass it up. You walked right into that one, man..."_

Sighing with a brief shake of his head, the bearded man slowed to a stop as he craned his neck to look up at the fire that was still raging at the top of the building. It was hard to believe that just a few hours ago, Tony and the kid were both up there before everything literally exploded...

 _"Hey, man."_ The voice was heavy.

"Yeah?" He glanced around the area, trying to determine where Spider-Man could have gotten to since it seemed like he'd avoided most of the blast. A nearby spot packed with crates caught his eye.

 _"If there's one thing I can determine for sure from what I can see so far, it's that if anyone_ had _been left up on that rooftop when it exploded... we're likely not gonna find much left behind, if you catch my drift..."_

It was a possibility the bearded man had thought of already but had attempted to ignore. There _had_ to be a way that Tony could have gotten off that building in time... Hadn't he had a suit, even if he hadn't been wearing it when the argument took place? Or there had to have been another escape route...

"See any way he could have gotten away?" he wondered, beginning to walk again as he looked for... he wasn't sure what. Clues to how the billionaire could have gotten to safety, any indication as to who could have done this, even the man in question himself... _anything_. "Possibly that wouldn't have been caught by the footage we saw on the news because of the angle?"

 _"Looking for it now."_

"Good. Let me know when–!" His sentence abruptly ended when he felt something beneath his old tennis shoe, something that gave a metallic _crack_ when he stepped on it. Curious, he bent down and picked up whatever it was, squinting a bit to try and see it in the minimal lighting outside of the blaze.

His fingers involuntarily and briefly trembled when he recognized the material, causing him to nearly drop his find.

It was half of a broken, dirtied golden faceplate of an Iron Man helmet.

 **Author's Note** : So, there we go! Tony's not in the best of circumstances, and now Steve Rogers and Co. are getting involved in the effort to find him. I figured what better way to make this a bit more angsty than to bring in Steve? But how will the others react to knowing he's getting involved? We'll have to see as we keep going! Thanks again, guys! As always, feedback is always appreciated :-) Until next time!


	7. Chapter 7- Pawns on a Chessboard

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Hey, guys! Thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and follows! They mean a lot to me and really keep me encouraged! I'm glad you guys are happy that Steve and his team have come into the picture to try to help find Tony! As I said, what better way to add a little more angst than after what went down between them in Civil War? Also, speaking of Tony, he's not in the best of spots at the moment, and as promised, we'll see quite a bit more of what happened while up on that rooftop, as well as where he's at now coming up! With that said, I hope you enjoy! :-)

 _Chapter 7– Pawns on a Chessboard_

"So... tell me what you would've done to those punks, exactly, if I hadn't stepped out of the car?"

Happy rolled his eyes as he tightened his hands around the wheel. "I could've handled 'em," he muttered defensively as he turned onto the closest street he could to get to the harbor.

"Oh, yeah? With what?" Rhodey asked with a grin. "Those stellar boxing moves of yours I've heard a thing or two about?"

"Wait... what? No... she didn't..." There's no way he could have known about that... It had been so long ago that he and the woman in question had gone to infiltrate Hammer Industries, as well as when she had caught him off guard in the boxing ring...

Rhodey chuckled. "Romanoff and Tony _may_ have mentioned something about it to me once... She suggested a possibly more... _able_ bodyguard. But that was before she knew the real you, so don't worry. We had a good laugh." Though his cheerful look waned, not only at the thought of their missing friend but also the thought of one of the teammates he'd believed he'd been able to trust.

They'd been on the same side when it had come to signing the Accords, and they'd fought together in Germany before she decided to help Steve and Barnes escape. Not the worst crime ever committed since it turned out the latter had been proven innocent in the UN bombing, but still. She was now rogue, like a few other members of the team, the family, they had built. He remembered the billionaire had at one time expressed how he wasn't sure if Black Widow could be trusted considering her less than... ideal past. And with the amount of times she'd seemingly been able to effortlessly cross, double cross, and even triple cross people she'd say she cared about, he couldn't blame him.

But also like Tony, he'd come to slowly trust her and wanted to believe the best in her since she was a valuable asset to the Avengers Initiative. And a good friend. It was a little hard to think of her, and the others, on the other side of the law now...

Beside him, the colonel could hear Happy grumbling under his breath about women, particularly women spies, and things that shouldn't be shared. Chuckling, he reached over and patted his arm. "Chill, man. It was all in good fun. You know Tony would never dream of replacing you, especially when it comes to watching Pepper." He paused, a mischievous gleam appearing in his eye. "You'd throw too big a fit."

"Yeah, yeah. Oh, and for your information, I got the guy. And she's a freaking secret agent." Happy sent him a mock glare as he found a place to park. This time, it was across the street from the gelato store. "At least we got the kid's backpack, didn't we?"

Rhodey acknowledged this with a nod. "That we did," he agreed before he smirked. "But only because I stepped out of the car, and those punks recognized Colonel James Rhodes and didn't want to mess with War Machine."

"Oh, shut up." But even Happy wasn't able to keep the small smile off his face. Shortly after the fight in Germany that had caused him extensive spinal damage and paralysis from the waist down, he couldn't deny that he had been concerned about the other man. He hadn't tried to let it show, but he'd seen the signs of depression Rhodey had displayed when he believed no one was looking as Tony attempted to help him walk again, and he couldn't blame him for that. It was a relief to see that some of his friend's humor had definitely returned, even when they were now faced with the grim reality of not knowing what had happened to Iron Man.

"Everything's in there at least, yeah?" the head of security continued.

"Think so." Rhodey glanced down at the slightly tattered backpack resting in his lap. "I mean, his phone and change of clothes are in here. Along with a couple notebooks, math and science books... A copy of _Hamlet_. An iPod with noise-canceling headphones. Pack of gum, half gone... I'd say we were pretty lucky. Those guys digging through it must have _just_ found it before we got there."

"Good. Wouldn't want anything stolen when we were supposed to get it."

"Kid's gotta be more careful where he hides his things," Rhodey stated as he set the backpack on the floor before opening the door and carefully stepping out of the car. "Even if that's his normal safe place, it won't be all the time."

"True, though I guess that's part of the problem of being the only one of you guys who has an identity that's still secret," Happy replied as he also stepped out before locking the car up after them.

Rhodey sighed. "Yeah, and let's hope it stays that way," he muttered with a cautious look around. "Especially right now..."

Happy nodded in agreement as they began to walk down the still bustling and brightly lit sidewalk. He glanced skyward, knowing the smoke still had to be lingering heavily over them even though it couldn't be seen against the starless sky. "Yeah, that kid doesn't need any more stress with people finding out who he is when that person is being accused of murder..."

"Not at all. Kid would break under that kind of pressure." The "still might" the colonel had thought better of adding at the last second lingered heavily over them. Happy still seemed to hear it, however, as he sighed.

"That's what worries me."

When the two men reached the harbor, they both paused at the sight they were greeted with gathered in front of the burning building. "What the hell is this...?" Happy groaned in clear annoyance. " _This_ wasn't here earlier..."

Rhodey let out a long breath when his gaze passed over two clearly opposing groups, both rowdy, angry, and seemingly restless enough to start resorting to more physical methods. Police officers were carefully moving through the crowd, trying to keep the confrontation from turning violent. "This doesn't look good," he muttered. "Looks like we got one side defending Tony, the other Peter... Damn, people will fight over anything these days." He shook his head slightly. "Let's see if we can find an officer to talk to."

"Right with ya, buddy."

When they got nearer to the large assembly, someone from the pro-Iron Man side noticed them and immediately pointed. "Colonel Rhodes!"

The call was immediately picked up by other surrounding the young man, interspersed with other cries for War Machine, as many people in the group began to try to make their way toward him with their cell phones out. But Happy stepped in front of him, blocking him, and Rhodey chuckled.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't need a bodyguard, Happy..."

"Just shut up and take it," Happy hissed back before turning his full attention to the advancing people who had gathered to express outrage and sorrow over the presumed fate of Tony Stark. "Hey! Keep your distance!"

It was then that Rhodey didn't mind having the head of security along with him to help ward off the riled crowed as they made their way, slowly but surely, toward the barricade blocking off the burning building. He just wasn't in the mood to deal with any of the shenanigans, not when one of his best friend he'd had for almost his whole life could have been nearby and hurt, or...

"Colonel Rhodes! A word, please."

His thoughts were instantly derailed when a tall, slender young woman with long, strawberry blond hair approached from the other side, sighing with annoyance when he realized she was a reporter as she shoved a handled recorder in his face.

"What are your thoughts on the eyewitness report that Stark, a known personal friend of yours, could have possibly been murdered earlier this evening?"

"No comment," Rhodey stated stiffly, not even looking at the woman as he kept making his way forward. But even though he knew the truth about Spider-Man's involvement in the incident, the word kept echoing in his mind, no matter how much he tried to force it away.

 _Murdered... murdered... murdered..._

"Colonel, how about thoughts on the reports that Spider-Man has been reported as the last known person to not only see Stark alive, but also as the person who is, right now, the lead suspect in his presumed death?" she persisted.

"No comment," Rhodey repeated, just as firmly as the first time. He cursed inwardly when the joints in his left knee began to stiffen up a little, making his strides a little more difficult despite the braces. It was a problem he'd been noticing throughout his rehabilitation if he overdid walking without anything for support, one that Tony was determined to fix. All he knew was now was _not_ the time for it to settle in.

"How about your thoughts on–!"

The reporter's question was rudely interrupted when Happy suddenly reached over and grabbed the recorder from her hand. "He _said_ no comment," the head of security snapped before tossing the small device as hard and as far away from them as he could. Rhodey watched appreciatively as it shattered against the concrete.

"Bill Stark Industries," Happy finished dryly before setting a hand on his friend's shoulder and steering him away from the stunned woman.

"I was _two_ seconds away from doing that myself, man..." the colonel muttered.

"Two seconds too slow, my friend." Happy smiled back at him, causing both men to chuckle.

Rhodey's cheerful smile faded with a sigh when they reached the barricade keeping the civilians a safe distance away from the burning building. He glanced around, noticing a blonde woman somewhat nearby being consoled by a couple of officers before casting his gaze above them at the bright, crackling flames. The heat was intense, even from that distance.

As he watched the firefighters work to combat the blaze as best as they could, his jaw tightened as a sobering reality occurred to him due to all that he had seen through his years of service. If anyone had been up on that roof when the explosion hit and stayed up there in its fiery aftermath, there wasn't a very high chance that anything could be found. Unless Tony had been able to find another way to make it off the building to escape the blaze...

But then, his eyes narrowed slightly in confusion when something caught his eye against the night sky in the flickering light. What appeared to be a drone of some sort was hovering a cautious distance above the building and was being careful to avoid the smoke or the direct line of vision of the firefighters. Not thinking too much of it, he began to look away before pausing and taking a second look when something about it caught his attention.

The red and silver coloring... the almost bird shape...

Rhodey's brow furrowed as he started to look at the large group of people gathered around them. He knew that device... there was no mistaking it. Or its owner. Sam Wilson _had_ to be somewhat close by if Redwing was, though what he was doing _here_ after having been completely off the radar after escaping the Raft prison two months before, he wasn't sure. Unless he'd happened to hear about Tony...

If that was the case, who else could have been with him?

Beside him, Happy didn't seem to notice the same things as he instead scanned the group of police officers scrambling around on the other side of the barricade. Finally spotting a familiar face, he raised a hand and waved to get his attention.

"Hey, kid!" he called. "Over here! Remember me?"

The young, clean-shaven officer he had seen earlier in the day turned at the voice before giving the head of security a small smile. Glancing around at the other officers around him, he began to jog over. He briefly pulled his cap off and brushed a hand through his unruly brown hair before replacing it as he stopped in front of them.

"Hey, yeah, I remember you," the officer muttered. "You were the one asking all the questions before."

Happy let out a small, slightly irritated breath before offering a conceding nod. "Yeah, and I've got a couple more..."

But his sentence trailed off when he saw the younger man's eyes go wide when he noticed just who was with him. He allowed himself a quiet chuckle when he remembered how the officer had spoken about both Spider-Man and Iron Man with excitement the first time he had seen him, knowing he shouldn't have been surprised to see this response to yet another Avenger. Perhaps his friend had been right in saying that having War Machine around would be helpful at the scene, after all...

"Co-Colonel Rhodes," the young officer managed to stutter. "It's... it's an honor to meet you, sir.

Rhodey quickly turned around from whatever he'd been looking for to face the kid, and a small smile appeared at the corner of his lips as he sturdily shook his proffered hand with a brief nod. "Pleasure's mine," he replied. "Keep up the good work here, son."

The young man appeared as though he could faint on sight at the compliment if he weren't on duty. "Th-thank you, Colonel..."

Happy smiled. "Look, kid, we're here to see if we can find out anything more about what could have happened to our friend, Tony Stark," he continued, making sure that his Stark Industries badge was in plain sight. "We're not entirely sure we believe what the news has been saying about what happened, and if there's a chance that he's around here somewhere, hurt or disoriented..."

Hesitance immediately crossed the young officer's face. "Oh, I... I don't think I'd be allowed to let you past this point," he told him with a brief shake of his head. "I've been around here all day, and I haven't seen any sign of Mr. Stark around the scene... Besides, it's much too dangerous. I could get in trouble..."

Rhodey flashed the younger man the finest example of his bright, charming smile that was full of confidence. "We won't get too close to the building itself, I promise," he assured him calmly. "We'd just like a brief look closer to the harbor, perhaps on the other side of the building... that's all. Because if there's a chance that Mr. Stark _is_ hurt and needing medical attention, well, that'd be on us. And all of you guys. We can't have that."

The kid's defenses were cracking, that much was clear by his darting gaze. "Well, as I said, we... we did go over the scene..."

 _And totally missed Spider-Man_ , Happy thought to himself with annoyance.

"Consider it... Avengers business," Rhodey quickly continued, that disarming smile still lingering on his face. "Kid, I'm a military man who's served this country for years. And this guy here..." He paused, cheerfully patting Happy on the arm. "This guy here used to be Iron Man's personal bodyguard. I give you my word we'll be very careful and won't get too close. Okay? Just a quick little look around." He completely ignored the scowl being sent his way by the head of security.

After another moment and cautious look around at the other officers, the young man nodded. "Okay," he finally agreed, moving the barricade a little to the side so they could have room to pass through. "But be quick about it. And don't get too close. Don't want you two to get hurt, Colonel."

"Much appreciated, son. What's your name?"

The officer definitely seemed flustered to be asked such a direct question. "Peterson, sir."

"Well, you have my thanks, Peterson. We'll be quick. And you can blame me if you get into any trouble for this."

Peterson nodded, appearing as though he'd never dream of doing such a thing, and stepped aside, allowing them to come inside the perimeter. Rhodey walked through first before he glanced back at the other man with a large, satisfied grin.

Happy's eyes narrowed. He knew where this was going. "Don't even say it..." he began, his tone low and full of warning.

"I _told_ you so, man," Rhodey said with a brief laugh, completely ignoring his friend's roll of his eyes as he stepped past the barricade himself. "War _freaking_ Machi–!"

But before he could finish his statement of personal victory, a deafening _crack_ echoed through the night air. People in the large crowd behind them screamed and gasped in fear. Peterson's eyes widened in terror. Happy reached forward and grabbed a hold of the colonel's arm, pulling him back toward the barricade. Rhodey threw an arm out to steady himself as he stumbled back, wincing as his legs protested to the sudden motion before turning above him once again with fear of his own.

The flaming building had finally started to collapse beneath the weight of the damage caused by the flames and earlier explosion, and they all could only watch in horror as large, fiery chunks of concrete began to fall toward the ground far below as the structure started to implode.

* * *

 _"Oh, shit!"_ the panicked voice of Sam Wilson broke through the two earpieces. _"Nat! Steve! Get out of there,_ now _!"_

The blonde-haired Natasha Romanoff stared up at the crumbling building with fear as she took a few quick steps back from the barricade and the officers she'd previously been speaking with hurried away. She hardly noticed as Redwing zipped away back toward its owner high above her as she grimly realized that anything they'd hoped to find on that rooftop that could lead them to Tony was going to be lost now. Hopefully, Sam would be able to find something in the footage he'd managed to get before everything had collapsed.

But while a concern, it wasn't her immediate worry. Her sharp gaze quickly scanned the officers, firefighters, and emergency personnel who were scrambling on the inside of the perimeter, looking for the familiar bearded face of their third companion hurrying away from the scene. But she did not find what she sought.

"Steve!" she yelled, covering the ear not containing the small communication device in effort to block out the loud sounds of panic so she wouldn't miss anything. "Steve!"

But she heard nothing.

Undeterred, Natasha moved a bit further down the barricade, getting as close as she possibly could to get a better look at where she had last seen their friend disappear into the shadows of the now partially collapsed building that overlooked the harbor. "Sam, do you have a visual on Steve?" she asked, her gaze traveling upward to see if Redwing was still close enough to the scene to get a good look.

It took a moment for his defeated response to come through. _"Negative..."_

Sighing, Natasha tried to fight the anxious crowd threatening to consume her in all the chaos. "Steve!" she cried out one more time, hoping to get any sort of response as Sam took up the call in her ear as well. "Can you hear us? _Steve_!"

The only answer they received was static.

* * *

 _"B-but... Mr. Stark... My uncle, he's right there... How can you not see him? Mr. Stark? He's right_ there _! We_ have _to help him!"_

 _Tony could feel the teen's skinny frame shaking against him and could hear the tears forming in his eyes as the words broke through his lips, and his brow furrowed as he made sure his hold around him stayed secure to keep him in place. He could only assume that the gas they had been hit with had some hallucinogenic properties, which was a lot less severe than he had feared when he'd seen the symbol of the Ten Rings on the device that had come at them. He had immediately removed his suit jacket after his Iron Man armor had been targeted by their assailants– much to his_ great _annoyance– to cover his face, but he'd also been keenly aware that it wouldn't be enough to counteract the effects completely. He'd have to be careful._

 _Though what he could say for certain was that there was no one standing where Peter was frantically trying to get to. There was actually nothing there aside from the edge of the building, which the web-slinger would have toppled right off of if he hadn't caught him. Though he couldn't deny that his young companion's broken tone as he called out for his uncle, as he adamantly told him that they had to help him, pierced straight through him. The billionaire was aware of the circumstances surrounding Ben Parker's death, he had been since he had decided to recruit this kid after learning who he was and what he could do, so he understood how painful this fresh wound still had to be for Peter to believe he was now seeing this beloved man._

 _He opened his mouth to say something to get the teen to focus, to see reason, to offer a little comfort perhaps, but he froze when a stern, quiet voice reached his ears. It was one that he knew well, one that made his very blood run cold._

"... Tony..."

 _A moment passed before Tony raised his gaze from Peter, who he was sure was prepared to start trying to fight out of his hold again, and his hazel eyes narrowed as he attempted to focus on the figure he could just start to make out through the light-colored haze that still lingered over them. He blinked rapidly a few times as the gas continued to thin around the shadow that slowly drew nearer to them, and it wasn't long before this man's immaculate suit, sharp features, and brilliant white hair and beard were clearly visible._

 _Hearing him was one thing; seeing him was another all together._

 _The billionaire's breath caught in his chest as the arm he had around Peter began to loosen, and his eyes widened in fear as he stared at the crimson blood marking the serious, lined face he knew so well. He felt the teen's gaze on him curiously, but he ignored it as his sole attention remained on the commanding figure standing before them, his mind frantically trying to process exactly what it was that he was seeing._

D-Dad...?

 _But then, Tony shut his eyes tightly as he briefly shook his head with determination. This vision wasn't real. It_ couldn't _be. Howard Stark had died... no, was_ murdered _... years before. This last image he had seen of his old man from the old video Baron Zemo had shown him only two months before that had been burned into his brain ever since and that had manifested itself in front of him now was merely that– his mind playing tricks on him. It_ had _to be an effect of the gas, there was nothing else it_ could _be. His father was just a hallucination. There was no way it could be real..._

"Tony... Look at me, son."

 _... Then why did that voice, that deep voice he had heard for all of his young life, sound so_ damn _real...?_

 _His breath shaking as it now came quicker, Tony forced his eyes to open and look back at his father, no matter how much he didn't want to. He had to just... ignore what was happening, not play into these hallucinations. But he somehow felt obliged to obey the gentle command, nonetheless. Just as he always had. Howard's sharp gaze met his and captured it, and he found he was unable to look away._

"Tony, I always knew that you would have the ability to change the world," _Howard continued now that he had his son's attention._ "And look at you now. I regret not saying this to you sooner, but my greatest creation has always been–!"

 _Suddenly, a metallic silver hand landed on top of Howard's head from behind, roughly yanking his father out of sight. Tony let out an audible gasp as he stumbled back away from both this new threat and from Peter, his heart hammering painfully in his chest as he turned away._

 _"Mr. Stark...?"_

 _The billionaire heard the web-slinger's concerned voice but found he couldn't bring himself to respond to it, to reassure him. He frantically attempted to steady himself, to force himself to breathe, to focus enough to slow his racing mind down to a point where he could just_ think _._

 _His efforts were interrupted by a heavy footstep made by what he saw was a black combat boot out of the corner of his eye, and Tony's head quickly snapped up as another man strode out of the smoke toward them. Dread coursed through him when he immediately recognized the dark uniform, the left arm completely made of metal with a red star painted on the shoulder, and the brown hair that framed his pale face. Or at least what was visible of it. A dark cloth mask covered his features except for the piercing blue eyes rimmed heavily with black._

 _But no... wait... something was_ wrong _here... That metal arm... the other man no longer should have had it... He had blasted it off himself... He was_ certain _of that..._

 _... Then why...?_

 _But Tony had no time to question it further as he watched Barnes pull what appeared to his distorted mind to be a high-powered assault rifle off his back with gloved hands... and aimed it straight at Peter._

 _The billionaire moved before he was even aware of what his body was compelled to do. He saw the teen was continuing to stare at him in fear, not even noticing the Winter Soldier or the danger he was clearly in. Tony quickly reached out and pulled him back, ignoring the kid's startled shout, as he put himself between Peter and the weapon just as the gunshot echoed around them. He inwardly chastised himself. Why he kept playing to these hallucinations, he wasn't sure..._

 _... until burning pain erupted low in his side as a real bullet tore through his body._

It was that burning pain in his lower side that caused a weak groan to break through Tony's dried, chapped lips as he slowly forced his eyes to open. But everything around him was moving too quickly, and he closed them again as he let out a long, shuddering breath.

Damn, everything _hurt_. His limbs felt almost like rubber and were too difficult to move as they protested any and all movement. His torso felt as though it was on fire as he struggled to take full breaths. His whole head was pounding and felt as though it was too heavy to lift off the hard floor. And almost worse than all of that, his mind felt as though it had been forcefully detached from his body, and with as weak as everything was, it felt as though it hadn't been put back properly yet. It was a sensation that was both unfamiliar and unsettling, much more so than any of the physical injuries that he'd become so accustomed to over the years.

What... what the hell had even _happened_...? He couldn't say for sure... All he remembered was being on a rooftop somewhere... he'd been angry at someone about something...

... Wait...

A blue and red suit flashed before his eyes followed by a desperate young, familiar face...

 _"Mr. Stark..."_

 _Peter_. He'd been with Peter up on that rooftop.

He struggled to force his eyes open again before trying to push himself up, though he didn't have the strength. His head weakly dropped back to the floor as his chest heaved and his mind whirled.

 _Where was Peter?_ He had to make sure he was safe, that he was okay, that he was unhurt...

 _"Better get moving then, Iron Man..."_

A beautiful face framed by strawberry blonde hair, one that he loved more than any other– especially when she gave him that smile– was close to his own. How he'd just wanted to lean forward, to close that distance as he'd done so many times before, to capture her lips with his own...

"Pe... Pep...per..." Tony gasped out, his hand slowly reaching out before him. She hadn't been up on that building along with him and Peter... had she...? He couldn't remember...

 _"Tony... Look at me, son."_

Howard... His father had been there...

No, that was impossible... But that deep voice, it was _so_ clear... that bloodied, stern face _so_ familiar...

Barnes... _no_ , that metal arm shouldn't have been there...

... Barnes had shoved his father aside... had _killed_ him... had tried to shoot... Peter...

The pain in his side flared, and he carefully rested his arm over it.

 _"Mr. Stark!"_

Peter's pale, fearful features flashed before his eyes again. _Peter_... _where was_ Peter...?

The billionaire's mind was going so fast it almost hurt... it throbbed in time with his frantic heart... Slow down... _please slow down_...

Barnes' gun was fired... There was a burning pain in his side as a bullet tore through him... _pain_... then bright lights and intense heat...

... an explosion...?

Peter's panicked... or was it _pained_... scream echoed in his ears...

 _Peter!_

Tony took a sharp intake of breath as he once again started to try to push himself off the floor, causing a coughing fit to wrack his entire body and wreaking havoc on his sore, dry throat. He couldn't breathe. But he didn't give up as he pushed himself up on one arm, the normally strong, sturdy limb trembling as he struggled to support his weight and threatened to send him face-first back to the floor. The coughing finally stopped, still leaving him gasping for breath, and he reached for his chest...

But he paused when his fingers came in contact with something he hadn't expected to feel there.

 _Wires_.

Tony's eyes snapped open, and despite how the dark room around him spun, he forced himself to look down at his chest. Through the minimal lighting and his blurry vision, despite how he blinked repeatedly in effort to clear it, he saw the wires were definitely connected to his body. At his feet was what appeared to be some sort of...

... was that... a _car battery_...?

Cold panic grasped his heart and wouldn't let go. But that... that was _impossible_... He didn't... he didn't need that... This wasn't... There was _no_ _way_...

The billionaire struggled to raise his head to get a better look around, noticing the one bright spot in the place he was being kept in was a large, illuminated, red flag mounted on the wall across from him. His hazel eyes widened as his mind nearly ground to a complete halt when he saw the symbol that shook him to his very core– two swords crossed in the middle of ten interlocking rings...

No... _no_... this was _impossible_... There was _no_ way he could be _here_... It felt like so, so long ago now. Another lifetime.

... But yet...

His chest _hurt_ like hell whenever he took a gasping breath. His heart felt like it had to keep forcing itself to beat again and again as it pounded against his ribs. The pain, the feeling, _so_ hauntingly familiar...

But he knew better... didn't he...?

Letting out an exasperated, almost fearful, sigh, Tony frantically pulled at the wires attached to his chest, finding with confusion that they had only been clipped onto his torn t-shirt. His brow furrowing, but not able to deny the feeling of relief that replaced the panic, he weakly shoved the wires away from him, his foot lightly bumping against the car battery for added measure. He wanted nothing to do with it.

Trying to settle his breathing a bit, he slowly dropped his head again. His fingers curled tightly into a fist. He wasn't stashed away in a cave in Afghanistan somewhere, he had to keep telling himself. He wasn't being held captive by the Ten Rings...

But clearly, someone had brought him _somewhere_ after... whatever had happened down at the ferry port after Peter had gotten into some trouble. And obviously, that person wasn't friendly.

A quiet laugh reached his ears then, causing his body to tense. He should have known; there was always one right away.

"You're awake, Mr. Stark. Good."

Tony glanced up, seeing the same pair of black combat boots he remembered from earlier before he slowly raised his gaze to look at the Winter Soldier towering above him. Or rather, someone who _looked_ like the Winter Soldier. Now that the man was closer, he could see, even through the bit of a haze that lingered over his brain, the differences in his facial structure a bit more, as well as in his build. That and he had that blasted metal arm that he wasn't supposed to.

"So... who are you supposed to be?" the billionaire asked lightly, hoping to keep his voice as steady as possible despite how everything hurt and how dry his throat was. "Some cheap Bucky Barnes knock-off? Go back to Comic Con, pal. Or your parents' basement..."

Arsen rolled his eyes in annoyance before he smirked. "You still have some fight in you. That's good," he muttered. "We'll see how long it takes to get that right out of you."

Tony attempted a similar look in return. "You'll be trying for a long time, I'm afraid." He was definitely pleased with how sturdy and confident his tone sounded there, all things considered. "It's going to take more than a couple wires and a car battery to me to crack."

The other man's blue eyes gleamed, and Tony felt a sense of dread he couldn't explain. "Fortunately for us, the doctor has plans for you," he told him. "You have your role to play yet in the events that will now begin to unfold. And then your use will have reached its end."

His arms were beginning to tremble beneath him as they struggled to support his weight, but Tony grit his teeth in determination to keep himself propped up, even as he briefly closed his weary hazel eyes. His mind was still attempting to clear itself completely, and the words weren't fully registering. What _role_ was he supposed to be playing? All he knew was he wasn't going to go along with it, not at all. He wasn't going to do anything these crazy cosplayers wanted.

"Look, pal, if you think I'm gonna just..."

"I'd be careful if I were you," Arsen suddenly advised, interrupting his captive. "You're only one pawn on this board, Mr. Stark. You never know where the other pieces are."

A cold dread flooded through Tony as his eyes widened slightly. Peter... Pepper... They couldn't be here... could they? No, he refused to believe that...

"What... what do you...?" he began, his tone cracking ever so slightly as his mouth felt dryer than ever. But his question trailed off when the other man turned on his heel and began to make his way toward the door of the room. "Wait..."

But Tony's protests fell on deaf ears as Arsen strolled out, the last thing he saw being the gleam of his metallic arm before the door slammed heavily closed behind him.

 **Author's Note** : Quick shoutout to **CoffeeRanger** for this little idea of the first mind game played on Tony! Much appreciated, my friend, and I can't wait to get more into our rather evil ideas that we've got in store. So, that's it for this one! Poor Tony, that's all I gotta say. It won't be getting much easier for him for a while. And poor everyone else as they try looking for him! It won't necessarily be the easiest on them going forward, either! Next chapter, we'll be getting back to Peter as he figures out how to get himself more in on the action to find Tony, as well as to deal with the other problems he's facing. As always, feedback is appreciated. Until next time, guys! :-)


	8. Chapter 8- A Place to Start

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Hey, guys! Thank you all for the reviews, follows, and favorites, they mean a lot to me! I'm glad you're all enjoying this crazy ride as much as I am :-) I would have had this one up a little sooner, but I had to restructure some of this one as well as the next one to a place where I thought it would make more sense. I guess it could be considered a bit more of a transition chapter with our characters as they try to come to terms with all that's happened. With that said, here we go! :-)

 _Chapter 8– A Place to Start_

 _Pepper's hands trembled slightly as she stared down at where they were resting in her lap where she was sitting on the couch of the dimly lit, empty, spacious room at the top of the Avengers Tower, her breath coming light and quick. She hardly noticed as a couple more tears leaked from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks before dripping onto her slender fingers that refused to stay still. She'd believed that coming here, to a room large enough for her to be able to breathe where she could see the usually calming sight of the bright lights of New York against the dark sky stretched out before her, would help to calm her down._

 _But not that night. That night, the spectacular view held no comfort for her. In fact, it was only making the nightmare she couldn't seem to shake even worse. For while the city still shone brightly, the evidence of the devastation after an army from outer space had charged through also still remained._

 _Then, she heard hesitant footsteps approaching, the light sound mingling with her quiet gasps. But she didn't raise her gaze. She couldn't bring herself to meet the eyes of whoever had discovered her like this._

 _"Hey," a soft, familiar voice murmured as the man walked around the couch so he could get a better look at her. "What's going on, Pep?"_

 _But Pepper still didn't look up. Instead, she closed her eyes tightly and shook her head. No, he wasn't here, he couldn't be here... She'd seen what had happened to him herself... She couldn't breathe..._

 _Though the tightness in her chest seemed to ease a little when a warm hand wrapped around hers and held on securely. "Come on, honey, look at me," that voice she loved persisted gently._

 _A moment passed before Pepper slowly raised her gaze to meet the hazel one looking back at her intently from where he was sitting on the floor in front of her. "T-Tony...?"_

 _"Yeah, Pep." The billionaire gave her a small smile, though she could tell by his paler face and the dark, heavy bags under his eyes that he was exhausted himself. He hadn't been sleeping much since the battle with the alien army, preferring to instead waste away the nightly hours in his lab tinkering with something or other. And clearly, that's where he'd been now, judging by the black tank top and dark sweatpants he was wearing, the towel draped over his toned shoulder, and the sweat that lightly touched his face._

 _"What's going on, honey?" Tony continued quietly, patiently. "JARVIS alerted me that you were awake."_

 _That blasted AI. Pepper shook her head slightly as she chuckled, but she tightened her hold on his hand ever so sightly. "It's nothing, really," she said, knowing that this was going to sound pretty stupid once she said it out loud. "It was just a nightmare, that's all. But..."_

 _Tony arched an eyebrow when her sentence trailed off. "But...?"_

 _Pepper took a deep breath, unable to stop a couple more tears that rose to her eyes and spilled over. "It was just... you didn't come back," she whispered. "You didn't make it back from... from wherever you went... And it just felt so real, and... when I woke up, you weren't there, so..." She lowered her gaze again as she closed her eyes, despising how weak her voice sounded. It had just been a dream, after all..._

 _Tony worried his bottom lip between his teeth. That had been the very reason he hadn't been sleeping himself. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the swirling wormhole above him, could hear the sounds of the Chitauri around him while the bomb weighed heavily in his hands, could feel his breath leave his body as he entered the cold, empty vastness of space while his heart struggled to beat just one more time before it gave up..._

 _He forced himself out of his own dark thoughts as he let out another sigh, running his thumb over his CEO and recently official girlfriend's hand. She needed him to be strong now. "Pep? Look at me."_

 _Another moment dragged on before she slowly raised her gaze to meet his again, and his brow furrowed when he saw the tears that she was refusing to let fall. He then pointed to the circle of warm blue light glowing on his chest through the fabric of his tank top with his free hand._

 _"See this?" he asked. "That means I'm here. As long as you see this, you know I'm alive."_

 _Pepper gazed at that comforting, familiar glow before she slowly, almost hesitantly, reached out and lightly brushed her fingertips over the Arc reactor before bringing them to rest at its center. Her tears slowly stopped before a weak smile appeared on her face._

 _Encouraged, the billionaire returned the look. "As long as you see this, honey, you know that I'll always find a way to come back to you," he finished, his tone full of quiet conviction._

 _Pepper met his gaze once again, and her smile broadened. Tony's did the same._ That _was the look he liked to see from her._

 _But then, he blinked in surprise when she suddenly slid to the floor next to him, pulling her hand from his before wrapping her arms around him securely. "Whoa, careful there," he said, lightly setting a hand on her back. "I'm all sweaty and gross from working in the lab, Pep."_

 _"It's not the first time I've hugged you when you've been all sweaty and gross, Tony," Pepper replied softly with a chuckle as she rested her head on his shoulder._

 _Tony shrugged in acknowledgement as he wrapped both of his arms around her and held her close. "Fair point," he muttered against her hair._

 _They stayed that way in silence for neither knew how long, Pepper content just to stay in the strong arms she knew so well as she listened to Tony's quiet breaths in her ear and his sturdy chest lightly rose and fell in a slow, even rhythm beneath her. The Arc reactor glowed strongly against her own chest._

 _"I love you," she suddenly murmured, her eyes drooping closed._

 _The billionaire's breath hitched slightly then, and Pepper's eyes shot back open. Those were three words she'd never uttered to him before, even though it was something she'd felt for him for quite some time, and she wasn't sure how they'd managed to slip out now. She began to push herself off him, but his arms tightened around her, keeping her in place. She then relaxed against his shoulder again as he carefully pulled her closer so she was settled in his lap, and his lips pressed lightly against the top of her head in silent response as she nestled against him._

 _It was the steady rhythm of Tony's heart that ultimately lulled her to sleep as he stayed awake to watch over her, keeping her nightmares at bay._

Pepper stared, wide-eyed, at her phone screen as she watched the news coverage of how the building Tony and Peter had been at down by the harbor was finally beginning to implode on itself. She hardly took in what the reporters were saying about how a few of the firefighters had been injured, though thankfully not too severely, and how the entire structure was now much more unstable. And while she was relieved there hadn't been any serious or life-threatening injuries, the implications of what this could mean were evident.

"You and Happy are okay?" she was finally able to ask as she closed out of the video.

Rhodey nodded with a sigh. "Yeah, we're fine, Pepper," he answered quietly before he shook his head once. "I'm sorry we really couldn't get much of a chance to look around. Anything that could have been there..."

"I... I understand," the CEO told him with a brief nod, attempting a small smile. She was well aware that they could have just lost any possible leads on what could have happened to Tony. "I know you guys did what you could. And I'm relieved that neither of you were hurt. That's the important thing."

The colonel chuckled a little. "Yeah, there is that," he muttered before he met her gaze. "We did get the opportunity to search the area for any sign of him, but we didn't see any indiction that he was around there..."

That's what she had been afraid of. Ever since Peter had told her about how they'd been exposed to a hallucinogenic gas before the explosion hit, Pepper's mind had gone through all the possibilities that could have befallen Tony while under its influence by the harbor. None of them settled well with her.

"So... we still don't know where he is," she whispered, mainly to herself as her mind traveled back to the memory from a few years before that had randomly come back to her shortly before her two friends had returned.

 _"... honey, you know that I'll always find a way to come back to you."_

The billionaire's words echoed in her mind, and she took a deep breath in attempt to steady herself. He may not have had that Arc reactor that he'd made that promise to her with anymore, and even though they weren't what they used to be, she was still holding him to his word.

Rhodey's stern features softened with regret. "No... not yet," he admitted. He reached out and set a secure hand on her arm. "But we're not going to give up looking. If he got off that building, he couldn't have gotten too far. Someone's bound to see him, or he'll find a way to contact us as soon as he can."

 _If_.

It was such a small word, only two letters and one syllable, but it weighed heavily over them both. Because even though they refused to give voice to it, the possibility that Tony _hadn't_ made it off the building was a very real one.

"And if whoever bombed the building... _took_ Tony?" It was a question she hadn't wanted to ask, as it was one that was bringing her back to a place she really didn't want to go.

"We'll figure that out, too," Rhodey assured her. Though he was also painfully aware that any clue to the attacker's identity was likely lost now. "In my experiences with this sort of thing, the kidnappers normally don't stay silent for too, too long. If that's the case, we're bound to hear something sooner or later, especially because they'd have someone of Tony's status. They'll want something out of this situation."

Pepper then glanced over at Peter– looking much more like himself in a pair of jeans, a "Midtown School of Science and Technology" t-shirt, and a pair of tattered old tennis shoes as he packed up his backpack– and sighed. "Maybe once all the gas completely wears off, he'll remember a little more..."

Rhodey nodded. "We can hope," he agreed quietly as he followed her gaze to where the fifteen-year-old was quietly talking to the head of security in subdued tones. "Happy told me he's going to keep a closer eye on the kid. We don't know yet what whoever did this was after. Or who. So until we know for sure that they're not coming back for Peter..."

"Good idea," Pepper muttered. "The Tower's open to him whenever he needs it." She then paused, fidgeting a bit with her ponytail. "And then there's the guys that Peter was dealing with, the ones Tony told me he was doing whatever he could to help with... That's what he was doing when that accident happened at the ferry."

"The weapons dealers and the guy with wings?" The colonel mulled this over. "I'll have to talk to him more about that when his head's a bit clearer... Any chance there's a connection to what happened at the building since it happened right after?"

Pepper shrugged. "It's possible... but I can't say for sure," she told him. "I can't imagine those arms dealers would be too thrilled that Tony showed up to help Peter, not to mention got the FBI involved..."

"No, I can't imagine they would." Rhodey worried his bottom lip between his teeth before giving her a small smile. "It's a direction, Pepper. A place to start. And that's a good thing. We're not stalled. Okay?" When he saw the CEO nod, still appearing shellshocked by everything that had happened over the past few hours, he let out a quiet breath as he reached out and wrapped a strong arm around her, pulling her close.

"We've got a start..."

Happy smiled as Peter slid his backpack up to rest on his shoulder. "Got everything, bud?" he asked. "Finish everything you need to get done for tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Peter answered with a bit of a nod. "Read Act Three, Scenes One and Two of _Hamlet_ , read the next chapter for Chem, and did all the problems for the two sections we covered in Geometry. Wasn't too much tonight, thankfully. Didn't take too long."

"Well, good. Wouldn't wanna send you home without getting your homework done, it's getting kinda late," Happy muttered with a quick glance at his watch. It wasn't _too_ late, but definitely getting on the later end for a school night. Plus, the kid needed some good sleep after what happened down at the harbor. "We want your aunt to be okay with you coming here, after all..."

The fifteen-year-old's eyes widened as he glanced over at Pepper and Rhodey before turning back to Happy. "Wait... you mean... I can come back?"

The head of security arched an eyebrow. "Well... yeah," he said as though this had been obvious for everyone involved. "Something's going on here, kid. And until we know for sure that you're not in any danger, we thought this would be a good place for you to be as often as possible. And you can help us figure out what happened to Tony. Sound good?"

Peter couldn't stop the broad grin from spreading across his face. Not only could he keep coming back to the place he'd ever only dreamed of being, but they actually wanted him to _help_ them after what happened. He was a part of the team. "Yeah... yeah, that sounds... _great_ , actually..."

"Plus, I suppose that would make _me_ in charge of your 'Stark Internship' now," Pepper added as she and Rhodey approached them, giving the teen a small smile. "Just in case your aunt has any questions about that."

"Oh, yeah, wouldn't want to let that slide," Peter agreed with a nod. "Thanks, Pepper. For everything."

"Of course, Peter. Anytime." Her smile broadening slightly, the CEO reached out and wrapped her arms around the teen, lightly patting his shoulder as he hugged her back. "See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," he muttered, beaming as they parted. He still couldn't believe he'd actually said those words.

Rhodey then stepped forward and shook Peter's hand. "Looking forward to working more with you, kid," he said, and though there was a smile on his face, there was also clear hesitance there.

Peter took a deep breath as he nodded, recognizing the look. He still had quite a bit to prove, that much he knew. "Same with you, sir," he replied. Then, he looked up when Happy set a hand on his shoulder and gave him a nod, and with a last wave at the others, he followed the head of security into the elevator, getting one last look at the spacious room before the doors slid closed.

* * *

His fingertips were already getting raw and starting to bleed a little as he continued to pull at the metallic casings that were securely clamped around both of his forearms. He'd felt that possibly with a little leverage, he could apply enough pressure to the weaker points on the mechanisms to get them to come loose. But said weak points were harder to find than he thought, and the casings were much too tight against his skin.

Finally, Tony let out a sigh of defeat as he leaned back against the wall behind him, muttering a couple choice words under his breath as he wearily closed his eyes. He wished he had something on him that could be used to help jimmy these things open, but he couldn't even find the spot on them to work from. He hated feeling so weak and useless– attributing it to having somehow survived being shot, an explosion, and his mind still not as clear as he would like it to be due to the stupid hallucinogenic gas– but he had to hand it to his captors, they were thorough. Even though he hadn't really seen anything like these casings before, he had a good enough guess what they were for– to block any signals that could reach his suits back home, therefore leaving him at a great disadvantage.

He slowly opened his eyes and cast his hazel gaze around the small and dimly lit what he guessed to be a basement of some sort, assuming that the space was also designed to block any sort of signal from getting through. They'd been prepared for him, which meant that they'd been planning his capture for quite some time, as they'd had time to get things ready for his arrival. Which also meant that it most likely wasn't anyone who Peter had been hunting down, as other than getting the FBI involved, he himself really had nothing to do with the guy with wings and the weapons dealers. No, this sort of preparation went further and took more time.

And clearly, these guys knew something about his past. The billionaire knew that it wouldn't be too difficult to look up information on what had happened to him while in Afghanistan, so he wasn't overly surprised that he had woken up to a space representing that horrible time in his life. And that one of his captors had taken on the persona of Bucky Barnes didn't mean too much, either. It wasn't exactly a secret that the Avengers had had a falling out and were all separated, the unraveling of himself and Steve Rogers at the center of it all due to the messy matter of the Winter Soldier...

Tony briefly held his breath, not allowing his mind to go any further down that path. He couldn't think about how Cap had completely broken his trust with his role in the truth about what had happened to his parents that night all those years ago, how he had seemed to give up on their friendship until an olive branch was received in the form of a note of apology and a disposable phone, how he himself had tried in his own way to start mending the shattered pieces between them by repairing and improving the Super Soldier's shield in a sort of olive branch of his own...

It took a moment due to how sluggish his brain was functioning, but the painful memories from Siberia finally subsided, both Bucky and Steve's faces fading from thought. Tony once again started to look around him, attempting to get himself back on track in determining just what sort of situation he was now in. There wasn't anything too personal these guys had thrown at him yet, nothing that the general public didn't know or could find out. As he'd told his captor, it would take more than a cheap Winter Soldier knock-off to make him crack, but he was still a bit wary of what else in his not-so-perfect life could be dug up by this merry band of cosplayers. He had no shortage of enemies who would love to get him into this sort of position and use whatever dirt they felt they had on him against him.

But... who was this _doctor_ his not-Bucky captor had referenced? Tony racked his brain, but he didn't think he'd ticked off anyone in the medical profession or any similar fields, though he couldn't say for sure. Wouldn't surprise him if he had at some point– skipped an appointment or something else of that nature. In either case, he'd bet that whoever this doctor was was the real one running the show, not the guy masquerading as the Winter Soldier. Pretty typical kidnapping situation, he thought. The one in charge hardly ever got their hands dirty and usually didn't show up until much later. Though what did concern him a little bit more than any of that was what was said about a role he was supposed to play. He had no idea what that meant, but he sure as hell wasn't going to...

Tony's thoughts trailed off as his gaze rested on the large, red flag mounted on the wall across the room from him. The familiar symbol of the Ten Rings that was already burned into his brain glared back at him again now, almost mocking him. It burned so brightly, both in his mind and in his eyes that he doubted he'd be able to get rid of the image for as long as he lived.

Which, he realized, may have only been up until he outlived his usefulness here.

... Oh, how he'd _love_ to just tear that flag down...

But even though he knew he wasn't back in that cave in Afghanistan, it was starting to almost feel like it... The darkness was starting to press in around him, the floor and wall were hard beneath him, all his muscles were tight and painful, his chest was on fire as he fought to catch his breath, his heart struggled for its next beat...

No... he couldn't be going back to that place... not right now... not again...

The billionaire forced himself to take slower, deeper breaths, but that overhanging feeling of dread refused to lift off of him. He knew he somehow just had to focus on his objectives. _Pepper_... her smiling face was still not far from the forefront of his mind, reminding him of what he had to find a way back to. _Peter_... his brow furrowed, remembering what his costumed captor had said about not knowing where the "other pieces" were. He couldn't have been there with them, he couldn't believe that... but if he _was_ , he knew he had to get a hold of himself and keep his mind as clear as possible to figure out how to get the teen, as well as himself, to safety...

But that was easier said than done as the walls seemed to tilt and shift a little, almost appearing more rock-like in shape and color. Tony closed his eyes tightly, attempting to force the images of Afghanistan out of his mind. _I'm not there_ , he thought, willing himself to believe the words. _I'm not there..._ He had to focus... just _focus_...

A quiet noise reached his ears then, and he cautiously opened his eyes and glanced upward at the vent above his head that he hadn't noticed before. A thin, light mist was seeping through it into the room, and his heart dropped.

No... not more of this gas...

Coughing a couple times, Tony raised an arm to cover his mouth and nose, but he knew it wouldn't do much good since he didn't know how long it'd been filtering into the small space. It had likely already settled into his lungs, into his mind...

And as he lowered his gaze, he jumped slightly when he realized he was no longer alone in the room. Another man was slumped against the adjacent wall, not appearing threatening in the least... Another prisoner, perhaps? Was he not the only one this doctor wanted for whatever twisted plan he had in store for him?

 _No... it's the gas..._

Tony shook his head in attempt to clear it, but the vision didn't fade. Though he knew it had to be another trick of his mind, there was _no_ way this could be real. Because he knew this man very well, which is also why he knew it was impossible for him to be sitting in the same room with him now. His gaze swept over his slender frame, his slightly tattered suit, his narrow face, his short and graying beard, his wire-rimmed glasses, and his mostly bald head. There was no mistaking him.

He was once again sitting in the same prison as Ho Yinsen.

 **Author's Note** : All right, that's it for this one! There was going to be another section after this one, but I realized that it would fit better in the next one, and this seemed to be a good better cut-off point. So, Peter's officially part of the "Operation: Find Tony" team along with Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey, and Tony is having some pretty serious PTSD moments... Next chapter will be much more Peter-centric as his head continues to clear after dealing with the hallucinogenic himself and tries to figure out more about what could have happened while up on that rooftop. We'll also find out what happened to Steve and Co. Thanks for reading! As always, feedback is appreciated. Until next time, guys!


	9. Chapter 9- The Familiar Pain of Loss

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit. All lines from _Iron Man_ belong to that crew!

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Hey, guys! Thank you all for your follows, reviews, and favorites, they mean a lot to me! :-) Sorry this one took a bit longer, work kicked my butt this week, but hopefully this makes up for it! As promised, this one's got quite a bit more of Peter in it! So I won't keep you any longer! :-)

 _Chapter 9– The Familiar Pain of Loss_

Pepper jerked awake with a gasp, a brief moment passing before she ran a weary hand over her face. She took a deep breath in attempt to settle herself down before dropping her hand and looking around the spacious Tower room from where she'd stretched out on one of the couches. It was lit by the pale morning sunlight that was rising over New York City, and she had to wonder how that had happened, how morning had even arrived. She certainly didn't remember dozing off, but what she _did_ remember was that her dreams had consisted of nothing but the news reports from the previous evening on an endless loop, so any sleep she had gotten had been fitful at best.

But she still wasn't sure what had woken her so abruptly. It certainly hadn't been Happy or Rhodey bothering her, as the two men had spent quite a bit of time into the early hours of the morning after the former had dropped Peter off at his apartment discussing what Tony had let them know about the group of arms dealers and the guy with wings, as well as just what sort of weapons they seemed to be making with the leftover Chitauri technology and what to do next. That had been in the kitchen, a completely separate part of the Tower, though she assumed that the head of security would have left by now to go pick up the teen for school.

That was when she felt her pocket vibrate again as the shrill ring brought her out of her reverie. Pepper scrambled for her phone, her brow furrowing when she saw the screen was dark. But then, she heard another ring, and remembering she was keeping the disposable phone on her as well, she quickly reached into her back pocket and pulled out the small device. Knowing the only person it would be and why he would be calling her, she immediately flipped it open and brought it to her ear.

"Steve?" she asked quietly as she sat up and glanced around the room to make sure she was alone. She was suddenly feeling much more alert.

A brief silence came from the other end before a different voice than she expected was heard. _"Sorry, Pepper. This is Natasha Romanoff."_

Pepper worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

The Black Widow was someone she hadn't always gotten along the best with, thinking back to when she had first met the assassin when she had gone undercover as Tony's new personal assistant after she herself had been promoted to CEO of Stark Industries. Since then, and since both the billionaire and Natasha had been a part of the Avengers Initiative, they had begun to form an almost begrudging respect for each other which, more recently, had started to become more of a liking of one another. Pepper couldn't deny that she respected and admired the other woman's strength, patience, and tenacity when it came to dealing with all the men around her. She often felt similarly, even though she had less of the team to deal with and keep in line on a regular basis.

Though just like Tony, she'd had times over the past few years where she'd wondered if the former KGB agent could be trusted. Natasha Romanoff wasn't a woman who really formed loyal connections– other than with Nick Fury, Clint Barton, and maybe Steve Rogers and, though she wouldn't say it aloud, quite possibly with Bruce Banner for a different reason– seeming to prefer keeping people at arm's length, even if those people wanted to get closer to her. But, also like Tony, she'd seen her pull through for her teammates time and time again, so it was that reason alone that she trusted the Black Widow.

"Hi, Natasha," Pepper murmured. "Is everything okay? Is Steve...?"

 _"He will be,"_ Natasha told her without feeling, but the CEO felt dread at her words nonetheless. _"But we have a favor to ask."_

Well, that was straight to the point.

Pepper's mind jumped into overdrive, wondering what sort of favor the assassin and Steve could want from her. But thinking back to her conversation with the Super Soldier the night before, she knew she'd do whatever she could to help them since he had offered the same to her.

"Sure," she finally said, taking a deep breath as she prepared to say the words that would technically make her a criminal if the wrong person found out since she'd be aiding wanted fugitives. "What do you need?"

* * *

When the piercing sound of his alarm clock blared from near his head, Peter instantly knew that morning was going to suck.

It was much too early for anyone to be waking up in his opinion, especially after the previous day. Almost stopping some of those weapons dealers he'd been hunting down, somehow surviving an explosion, being blamed for the murder of Tony Stark, and being under the influence of the hallucinogenic gas that made him see some things he'd rather not have had taken its toll on him. He'd gotten home a little bit later than usual the night before, glad he'd gotten his homework done at the Tower, and while May hadn't been the most thrilled with him, she'd been at least somewhat placated that he'd been at his internship before finishing his school work and "working on a project with Ned". Responsible things. Seeing how tired he'd been when he'd ambled into the apartment, she'd thankfully let him just go straight to his room without forcing him to eat anything– not that he felt he'd be able to stomach anything, anyway– or questioning him too much, and at least she hadn't noticed the lingering traces of the hallucinogenic. He'd barely managed to change into his pajamas, turn his light off, and climb into bed before passing out.

At least his sleep had been dreamless. It was exactly what he needed.

And now, staying right where he was suited him just fine. But knowing that May would suspect something, and not to mention have his head, if he didn't get up and go to school, Peter groaned as he reached out from where he was buried under pillows and blankets and blindly searched for the offending object. His fingers finally found what they sought, and he shut off the electric alarm clock. The teen allowed his arm to drop and hang over the side of his bed, but knowing it wouldn't be difficult or take long for him to fall back asleep unless he moved, he heaved a heavy sigh.

 _All right, Peter. You can do this. One... two... three... go._

A moment passed before he grumbled under his breath as he dug out of the pile and propped himself up on one arm, squinting in the dim, early morning sunlight as he looked blearily around his mostly clean bedroom. He immediately noted that while his head was still a bit heavy from having been so rudely awoken from a deep sleep, it wasn't nearly as fuzzy as it had been the day before. He smiled with relief, glad that the lingering effects of the gas had finally seemed to wear off.

But that didn't change the fact that he was still facing the problem of having to get out of bed and go to school like a normal fifteen-year-old. Grumbling some more, Peter shoved the blankets aside and dragged himself off the comfort of his mattress. Shivering a bit in the early morning chill, he began to throw an outfit together for the day without much thought. He was moving a bit sluggishly, he noticed, but he also figured that wasn't necessarily out of the ordinary after what he'd been through. And what he was still attempting to shake off.

Peter dragged his feet a little as he left his room and crossed the hall to the bathroom to freshen up a bit. He quickly splashed some water on his face and applied a light layer of acne cream almost robotically, the actions just automatic. As he brushed his teeth, he took a moment to study his reflection in the rectangular mirror. The dark rings that had been present the night before were gone, he had a bit more color in his cheeks, and his eyes weren't nearly so bright. All in all, he was looking more like himself and not so much like a zombie, and that had to count for something.

After a quick swish of mouthwash, the teen brushed his fingers through his hair in effort to get it somewhat presentable before deeming it "good enough" and leaving the bathroom to finish packing up the rest of his school stuff that he needed for the day. He grabbed his backpack from where he'd unceremoniously dropped it on the floor earlier, looking around the room without much interest for whatever else he was supposed to grab.

It should be noted, he thought, that school– generally– wasn't something that he minded, and even rather enjoyed most days. He got good grades, usually did well with extra-curriculars– even though he'd dropped those in order to make room for his "Stark Internship", something he still wasn't sure if May was overly enthusiastic about though probably wasn't– got his work done on time, and wasn't usually late to any classes. It's just that _now_ , when Tony was missing and possibly hurt or even _dead_ , and knowing that _he_ could possibly remember something about it to help find him, school was the last thing he wanted on his mind. He would much rather be with Happy, Rhodey, and Pepper at the Tower or checking out spots around the city to help them figure out what happened to the billionaire. He'd be a great help to them, considering that he had _been there_ when they had been attacked, he knew he could be...

But he knew that wasn't an option. If he skipped any classes, May would kill him. And he knew that while they'd told him he could help in the search for their missing friend and could come back to the Tower when he needed or wanted to, Happy, Pepper, and Rhodey wouldn't allow him to take time out of his education to do so, either. Neither would Tony if he were here, he figured. He'd probably laugh in his face and say, "Ha! In your dreams, kid" before kicking him out the door himself.

So, yeah, skipping school wasn't an option, no matter how much he wanted to since his time would be better spent at the Tower. It was a life or death situation, after all. But alas, school was calling. He'd just have to hope that the day didn't drag on too long, and before he knew it, he'd be heading over to rejoin the others to see how their search was coming along.

After grabbing a couple extra books and notebooks he'd need, Peter threw his backpack over a shoulder before making his way toward his door once again. But then, he stopped and quickly hurried back to his desk to where he'd set the paper bag with his Spider-Man suit in it when he'd gotten home the night before. He breathed a sigh of relief as he carefully took it out and slipped it into his backpack, knowing he'd rather not be caught without it and also grateful that May hadn't found it. Normally he took more care with where he put his suit, just in case his aunt did happen to wander into his room when he wasn't there or something, but he'd just been so exhausted when Happy had dropped him off that he hadn't given it that much thought. Thankfully, everything had worked out just fine despite his carelessness.

Now more confident that he had everything, Peter left his room and walked down the hallway to the kitchen, seeing his aunt was already there and had been busy preparing a quick meal before he had to go catch the bus. Not really much of a surprise; she was always on top of those sorts of things.

"Morning, May," he greeted as he grabbed the glass of orange juice she'd already set on the table for him and took a sip.

May Parker glanced over her shoulder from where she was standing at the counter and smiled when she saw him. "Hey there, sleepyhead," she replied before turning back to whatever she'd been preparing. "You're looking better this morning."

"Yeah, I'm feeling better, too," Peter told her as he sat at the table and carefully set his backpack on the floor by his feet. "But I slept well, so..."

"Good, it looked like you needed a good night's sleep." May grabbed a plate from one of the cupboards above her head. "You going to have a late night again tonight, or can I expect you home about the normal time?"

Peter thought that question over for a moment. He didn't _think_ it'd be as late as the night before, but what if Happy and the others figured out something important they'd have to pursue? "Uh... I don't think it's gonna be so late," he muttered, taking another sip of juice to buy him another second. "I've just got my internship after school, nothing with Ned, so..."

May clearly hesitated, and the teen froze. She sighed, turning back to look over at him again, this time with a strained, almost sad look on her face. Crap. "Your internship?" she repeated quietly. "I wasn't sure if..."

When he'd arrived home last night, he and his aunt had briefly touched on the subject of the Stark Internship. Of course she'd seen the news reports about Tony and Spider-Man, so she'd been concerned. Rightfully so, as that had been about the time he'd have been with the older man. Even though she wasn't Tony's biggest fan, putting it lightly, after she'd found out about how he'd whisked him off to Germany for the "internship", she'd still had plenty of questions, such as if he'd been there, if he'd seen anything, etc. He'd really been in no shape to talk about it then, both because of the stupid gas and because he just didn't want to think about all the awful things that could have happened to the billionaire, but he'd assured her that he was completely fine and no, he hadn't been in the area when the "accident" had happened.

Right...

"I, uh, I still have it, actually," Peter finally said with a small smile. "Mr. Stark's CEO said she'd continue with me in his... absence. Until he's back, anyway. She wants to keep me on board, so I guess I'm doing pretty okay."

His aunt's gaze faltered. "I'm glad she's going to keep working with you," she muttered. "But with all these reports..."

"Well, maybe the news is wrong, okay?" Peter once again grabbed his orange juice and took another sip, hating the way his voice had cracked and rose almost an entire octave on that question. But it was true. He couldn't just believe that Tony was dead, even if May seemed like she could. His senses were telling him otherwise, that he was still out there somewhere, and that he was just missing something important. He just had to remember more of what happened up on that rooftop so they could find him, that's all.

Sighing, May turned completely to face him, giving him a sympathetic look that he immediately wished she hadn't sent his way. It made his stomach churn. "I know," she said, her voice calm and somewhat soothing. She then crossed the small room to stand directly in front of him, reaching out and taking one of his hands in hers. "I know you care about Mr. Stark, and that you're having fun and getting a lot of valuable experiences with this internship you're doing for him, ones that could get you a job someday. But it's also wearing you out, and I really think you should be slowing down." Her nephew opened his mouth to argue, but she held up a hand until he closed it again. "But what I really want to say is that I... I want you to be prepared, just in case things have gone the way you don't want them to. You and I, well, we know how hard loss is. And I don't want you to go through that again so soon. Believe me, I hope you're right. But I also want you to be prepared, just in case you're not."

Peter attempted to hold her gaze for a moment before he lowered his, letting out a long breath. She was right, he understood that. Loss was something that had plagued his family, it seemed, for almost all his life. It was something very familiar to him. He'd lost his parents in a plane crash at age four, a time he could hardly remember. And they'd lost Ben not long before due to a criminal that he hadn't been able to stop from taking the life of his beloved uncle. Losing Tony would be... he didn't even want to imagine it. So he didn't. Instead, it made him even more determined to find the billionaire in time.

It was with that thought in mind that the fifteen-year-old looked back up at his aunt, this time able to meet her gaze steadily. "I know."

Smiling, May patted his cheek before she returned to the counter, just as two waffles popped out of the toaster. She quickly set them both on the plate, grabbing some spreadable butter and a bottle of maple syrup out of the fridge before setting everything on the table in front of her nephew. "So you think you'll be home after your internship this evening, then?" she wondered, grabbing a fork and knife out of a drawer and holding them out to him as well.

"Yeah, I think so," Petter confirmed, taking the utensils from her before going for the butter. "If anything changes, I'll let you know."

"Okay. Just know that I'll be gone for a couple of hours this evening, too," May told him as she returned to the counter to make a waffle for herself. She turned to the coffee machine across the sink from her when it finished making her drink, and she quickly grabbed the mug to add some sugar and cream to it.

Peter smiled slightly after dousing his waffles in syrup. "Have a date, May?" he teased.

May let out a sharp laugh as she stirred her coffee. "Ha! Hardly," she said, glancing over at him with a cheerful smile. "Actually, I have something much more exciting going on tonight. A meeting to arrange the neighborhood garage sale later this month."

"Ooh, sounds like a blast," Peter replied after taking a big bite of one of his waffles, his smile lingering. After not eating anything to speak of after lunch the day before, he was starving. "I'd better call in to check on you, just to make sure you don't stay out too late or get into too much trouble."

"Hey. Watch it, smart mouth."

Peter chuckled along with his aunt as she finished making her own waffle, adding some strawberry syrup to it before she brought her plate and coffee to the table with her.

The rest of their breakfast passed in comfortable silence, the teen even having time to make himself a third waffle since he'd devoured the first two so quickly, before he had to go catch the bus. He finished off his orange juice before setting all his dishes in the sink, about to quickly rinse them before May shooed him off.

"I got this. Have a good day at school," she said, wrapping him up in a hug and ruffling his hair a bit before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Remember to keep in touch if anything changes with your internship, or if you'll be home later tonight or something. I larb you."

"You got it," Peter assured her with a smile as he grabbed his backpack before he left the kitchen. "Larb you, too!" He felt her following after him at a slower pace, trying to push the feeling aside as he slipped his shoes on and grabbed his apartment keys. He knew she was just concerned about him, especially in the wake of potential tragedy with what had happened to Tony, but that same feeling just made him feel strangely on edge.

He slipped on a lightweight hoodie, zipping it up before sliding his backpack over a shoulder. The teen then turned back to his aunt, returning her smile as he gave her a quick wave. "Later, May." He then opened the front door and disappeared out into the hallway.

While in the elevator to get to the first floor, Peter dug around in his backpack for his iPod and noise-canceling earphones as he tried to think about all he knew about these guys he'd been hunting down. The same guys who may have attacked them and done something to Tony. He certainly hadn't caught any of the bad guys so far that he'd seen dealing with the crazy weapons, other than Aaron Davis– who just wanted this group of arms dealers out of his neighborhood– even though the FBI had possibly caught quite a few from the ferry. Those who remained couldn't be happy with him meddling in their plans all the time, he knew. Maybe... maybe the dealers he'd seen on the ferry, or even the guy with wings himself, had followed him and Tony to that building... Maybe they'd gone after the billionaire to get to him...

... or maybe Tony had just gotten in the way, and they'd been going after him instead...?

Either way, his stomach felt like it was being torn apart by the guilt that someone else he cared about could be hurt because of him.

Peter was jostled out of his thoughts when the elevator stopped, and he stepped out before hurrying through the lobby and into the cool morning air. He adjusted his backpack before unwinding the headphones from his iPod as he made his way down the sidewalk toward his bus stop a couple blocks away. He turned the device on and slipped one earbud in as he continued his earlier train of thought.

 _It had to be the guy with wings... who else could've gotten up to the rooftop with us so quickly? Unless any of the others can fly, but I don't think so... Why can't I remember seeing him there...?_

A loud _honk_ from a nearby car horn interrupted him this time, and Peter stopped with confusion and looked around. A couple shorter _honks_ came from behind him then, and he turned to look over his shoulder to find himself facing a familiar black car with a man wearing a familiar look of impatience sitting behind the wheel. A smile spread across his face when the driver waved him over in exasperation, and the teen ran over and immediately opened the back door and slid inside.

"'Bout time, kid..."

"Hey, Happy," Petter said, leaning forward to talk with the man a bit easier. "What's going on? Is there some kind of new mission, or something?"

The head of security glanced into the rearview mirror, looking back at his passenger over the top of his sunglasses. "Uh, yeah," he replied as he put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb. "It's called 'Operation: Get You to School on Time'." He briefly shook his head. "Put your seatbelt on."

Peter frowned as he sat back against the seat and did as he was told. Of course. He'd forgotten that Happy was going to be taking him places for a little while. And, just as he'd thought, they weren't going to let him skip any classes, as much as he would love to do so. "Right, so you're my chauffeur for a while," he muttered, deciding to poke a little fun at his grumpy companion.

Happy forced a smile that was almost more of a grimace. "Just until we're sure that you're in the clear," he specified.

The teen couldn't help but smile as he glanced out the window. Despite how he clearly wasn't a morning person, he could tell that Happy didn't mind running him all over Queens if it meant looking out for his safety. "So, did you guys figure out anything after I left last night?"

"Not much," Happy told him as he stopped at a red light. "I told Rhodey all that Tony had told me about what you told him about these weapons dealers and this... birdman of yours. Apparently the feds got most of the crew, but they're not giving up their leader. So we'll be checking into that lead this morning, hopefully get somewhere..."

"Don't do too much without me, now." When the head of security only huffed in response, Peter's smile faded slightly. "Aaron Davis."

"What's that?"

"Aaron Davis," the web-slinger repeated. "He was making a deal with a couple of these guys, I caught it going down not too long ago. But he didn't want these, like, crazy alien-tech weapons, so he was hesitating on it. And then I... accidentally made myself known, and I saved his life. I caught up with him again just yesterday, and because I helped him, he was the one who told me about the deal going down at the ferry. He's got a bit of a record, but nothing overly serious. Not like the guys who work for this dude with wings. He just wants all this stuff gone from his neighborhood. Because of that, he may talk to you guys. I don't think he knows too much, but he might be a good start, anyway."

Happy once again glanced back at him in the rearview mirror, and even though he couldn't see his eyes, he could tell his gaze was thoughtful. "Aaron Davis?"

"Yeah." Peter nodded.

"Huh. Okay." Happy then pulled his phone out of his pocket, making sure to keep an eye on the road as he slowly began to type something into it. "Just making a note of that to talk to Rhodey about... Speaking of."

Peter watched curiously as the head of security tossed his phone to the passenger seat before digging around in his suit jacket pocket, pulling out a folded slip of paper and holding it out to him. "What's this?" the teen wondered as he took it from him.

"Those are Rhodey and Pepper's phone numbers," Happy answered. "Just in case you can't get a hold of me, for some reason or another. We decided that it would be best for you to be covered."

A smile spread across Peter's face as he unfolded the paper and saw the two numbers. "Thank you," he said. He really was a part of the team now.

"Don't mention it, kid."

Peter quickly pulled out his own phone to input the new contacts before he quickly looked out the window, his eyes slightly wide as they passed through an intersection. "Uh, hey, Happy. You were supposed to turn right here to get to my school..."

Happy glared back at him through the rearview mirror. "C'mon, bud, pay attention," he snapped irritably as he moved into the right lane so he could turn in the direction he was supposed to as soon as possible. "I don't know where I'm going to get to Midtown."

The teen simply smiled sheepishly.

* * *

Although, Tony realized, he wasn't sure when he _wasn't_ sharing a prison with Ho Yinsen.

The billionaire had been sitting stiffly against the wall for he wasn't sure how long, not moving or saying a word as he simply stared at the other man in the room with him, who hadn't really moved much either. _Because he's not real,_ he reminded himself yet again. _None of this is real... he's in your head... just in your head... just like Dad..._

Tony shut that train of thought down immediately before it could get any further. And if he thought about it, he could explain why Yinsen was there, too. Easily. His captors had set up the space to look like that Afghan cave he frequented much more often than he liked to admit. The flag, the car battery. Of course he'd be reminded of his late friend, the man he owed his life to.

But as he'd come to realize, he was _always_ sharing a prison with Yinsen. His mind, his guilt over the man's fate because of him, was that prison, keeping them both trapped inside.

Bern, Switzerland. 1999. That's when it had all started.

Tony took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he continued to study the other prisoner's... _no_ , the trick of his mind... slouched form, his face turned away from him. He wished... oh, how he wished... that he remembered seeing Yinsen at the technical science conference in Bern. He vaguely remembered, through that drunk haze, a man who he believed could have been the same one he'd later been imprisoned with in Afghanistan introducing him to the distinguished Doctor Wu on that fateful New Year's Eve, but that was it. He wished he could remember that, and he wished he hadn't ignored him like he had. After all that he and Yinsen had experienced together years later in that hellish cave, he truly regretted not having a chance to spend actual quality time with the other man.

 _"So you're a man who has everything... and nothing."_

 _"Is this what you wish the legacy of the great Tony Stark to be?"_

The billionaire turned away from Yinsen then, unable to look at him any longer. He vividly remembered the sheer panic, the excruciating pain, that he had when first waking up in that dark cave. But he'd been _alive_. Alive only because of the man who was always trapped along with him, even now. He'd given him that second chance at living a worthwhile, better life. He'd given him that chance to change the direction his life had been heading in by guiding him toward the right one. In the face of terror, Yinsen had defied their captors' orders along with him by helping him to build his very first Iron Man suit, which in turn had caused him to continue to wear it out of a newfound feeling of responsibility. He'd stopped his weapons program at Stark Industries, no longer wanting them to fall into the hands of the wrong people who would use them for the wrong reasons. He'd found a makeshift family in the form of Rhodey and Happy, the other Avengers, and even Peter if he were being honest with himself. He'd found the only true love he'd ever really experienced in the form of the woman he'd least expected, though he couldn't deny that Pepper had given his life a meaning he'd never believed he would find. He'd left his previous life and all of its vices far behind him... all because this man he'd barely known had seen something in him that was worth saving and had sacrificed everything to allow him to live.

 _"Don't waste it... don't waste your life, Stark."_

And as he reflected on everything he'd done with his life since escaping from that cave due to Yinsen's sacrifice, Tony liked to believe that he was keeping that silent promise he'd made to his friend as he died. He felt like he'd managed to do a lot of good for others despite the mistakes he continued to make, he felt like he was in a much better place than he was before his three months in captivity. And he owed it all to this man trapped with him once again. The billionaire knew many had died because of his last name before that day he'd escaped the Ten Rings, and many others had since, but Yinsen... Yinsen had died _for_ him, not because of him. He had given his life to not only see his own family again, but to give him the chance to find his own. While he liked to believe he was keeping his word, he still felt like he could never fully repay the other man's sacrifice despite all that he had gained because of it, things that Yinsen had wanted him to have.

That guilt... it was the prison that kept them both locked away together in his mind...

Although...

The billionaire chanced another glance over at Yinsen, encouraged when he saw signs of a little more life from him. Perhaps this time... perhaps this time if he were able to escape, to liberate them both... they could both finally be free...

His hazel gaze moved back to the red flag burning brightly across from him, the symbol of the Ten Rings bolder than ever. His jaw set in determination.

"I'm gonna get us both out of here this time... I promise."

 _I'm not leaving you behind... Not again..._

Drawing in another deep but slightly shaking breath, Tony pushed himself to his feet, throwing a hand against the wall behind him to keep himself steady when his legs nearly gave out underneath him. He waited until they felt a little stronger, at least until they weren't shaking quite so badly, before stepping tentatively away from the wall. The first few steps were a little more difficult than he expected as he swayed, his balance thrown off by how dizzy he was from the gas and everything that had happened down at the harbor, but he drew his bottom lip between his teeth as he pushed himself forward at a slow but steady pace.

Luckily the room they... no, _he_... was being kept in was small, for it didn't take too long to reach the wall across from him. Still, his heart was pounding in his chest, his face was covered in sweat, and whatever injuries he'd sustained were flaring with pain and throbbing in protest as Tony leaned against the wall. He closed his eyes briefly, attempting to catch his breath as he willed his pulse to return to a somewhat normal rate, before he opened them again and gazed up at the large flag above him. He took in the crossed swords, the ten interlocking rings, the various characters... and the sight filled him with rage. The flag was so red... _so_ bright red... all he could see was that _red_...

Letting out a frustrated cry, he reached out and grasped the soft material in both hands before he pulled as hard as he could. It took a couple tries but he kept at it, and soon, a loud tearing sound resounded in his ears as the flag started to fall from the wall in pieces. The billionaire didn't stop until none of it remained hanging, and he glanced down at the last two uneven strips he held before allowing them to slip between his fingers to the floor in a heap to join the rest.

It wasn't the way out yet, but he couldn't help but feel some sort of sense of liberation, anyway.

Taking a couple deep breaths as a small smile appeared on his face, Tony turned to tell Yinsen the good news, though he hesitated before he could. _He's not real... he's not real..._

Before he could fully convince himself of this reality, the sound of the heavy metal door unlocking came from behind him, and he quickly turned back around, only to squint and raise a hand in front of his eyes as brighter light from some outside source fell into the room, nearly blinding him. He heard more than one set of footsteps, and after the door closed, he lowered his arm again to see who had entered the room.

His eyes widened as his breath caught in his chest, and he stumbled back a couple steps, making sure to keep himself between his captors and the mostly unresponsive Yinsen. For he immediately recognized the black, graying hair, full beard, and dark eyes of Abu Bakaar from the Ten Rings, followed by the bald, smirking, cold-eyed leader, Raza.

 _I'm not going to make your damn weapons... I'm not going to play that damn role you want me to play..._

But the billionaire had no time to dwell on these thoughts as Bakaar and Raza slowly started to close in.

* * *

"I'm glad to hear the kid's doing better," Rhodey said, balancing his phone between his ear and shoulder as he finished pouring himself a mug of coffee. He'd only caught a couple hours of sleep after staying up most the night talking to Happy about anything he could find out about the arms dealers Peter had been chasing and attempting to narrow down any possible leads to Tony. "Also glad you managed to get him to school on time, which sounds a bit harder than it should have been."

 _"Ha. I don't know the area very well, I'll do better tomorrow,"_ Happy snapped back from the other end.

Rhodey grinned. "You'd better hope you do better at 2:45 when you have to go back and pick the kid up," he reminded him, laughing when the other man grumbled under his breath. "Better get an early start."

 _"Yeah, yeah... But as I said, I'm actually calling with something important that I thought you'd wanna hear,"_ the head of security said.

"Let's hear it, man." Rhodey grabbed the piece of toast that popped out of the toaster and set it on the plate he had waiting, grabbing some butter and grape jelly out of the fridge. "C'mon, don't leave me hangin'."

 _"Fine."_ The colonel's grin broadened when he heard the irritation in his friend's voice. _"So the kid told me about this guy he talked to, the one who told him about that deal that was going down at the ferry yesterday before it broke apart and almost sank. His name's Aaron Davis. Apparently, he had a couple dealings with these guys, but he wanted nothing to do with it when he realized what they were selling. He more or less wants the same thing we do, these crazy weapons out of his neighborhood. Kid thinks he could be a good place to start, since none of the guys who were caught yesterday are giving up any information on this... guy with wings."_

Rhodey worried his bottom lip between his teeth as he thought over this information. "Davis, huh?"

 _"Yeah. Aaron Davis."_

"All right, yeah. At least it's something," Rhodey muttered. "I can track this guy down, and we can have a chat. See if he can give us anything worthwhile."

 _"That's what I was saying... Do you want me to come back to the Tower, or do you want to meet me at the place since I'm still in Queens?"_

"I think I'll..." But then, Rhodey's sentence trailed off when he heard some noises coming from the direction of the living room. Pepper must have woken up, he'd have to see if she wanted anything for breakfast.

"I think I'll find his address and..." the colonel began again as he put the butter and jelly back in the fridge, but his sentence once again slowly trailed off when this time, it sounded like there was more than one voice coming from the living room. Quiet voices, but still multiple.

"Hey, Hap, I'm gonna call you back." Before giving the other man a chance to talk, Rhodey ended the call and slid his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. Leaving his small breakfast behind, he left the kitchen and began to make his way toward the living room. He knew someone couldn't just sneak into the Tower, so he wasn't overly concerned, but he was curious about who was there so early, anyway.

"Pepper?" he called out as he stepped into the spacious room.

Every voice immediately stopped as he walked in, replaced with utter silence, and he came to a halt. In the early morning sunlight, Rhodey immediately found Pepper where she was standing in front of one of the couches, her eyes wide as though she had been caught red-handed doing something she probably shouldn't have. A dark-skinned man with short black hair wearing black-rimmed glasses, a red and black plaid shirt and white tank top, and a pair of light jeans with a couple tears in them stood beside her, appearing slightly startled yet unmoving. On the couch in front of them sat a light-haired woman who was dressed in a flowery outfit that wasn't necessarily fitting of her, and though her hair was now blonde, he recognized her sharp, pretty features immediately. And beside her, wearing a bit more tattered outfit and appearing to have some cuts, bruises, and maybe even a couple burns, was a man he'd know anywhere, even with the full beard hiding most of his face.

It was Steve Rogers.

 **Author's Note** : And there we have it! Some lighter moments, May's now a character, Peter's determined to get things moving, Pepper's helping "wanted criminals", and Tony's continuing to suffer from these PTSD moments. Poor guy's not gonna be in the best of condition anytime soon... But the rest of the gang is putting together some leads... and everyone's about to forcefully collide. How will that go? We'll find out! Thanks for reading, guys! As always, feedback's greatly appreciated! Until next time! :-)


	10. Chapter 10- Fractures

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Guys, I'm SO sorry for the delay on this chapter! I rewrote it a few times until I decided it was the way I wanted it, a couple of these sections decided to give me some trouble, lol. That and work has been pretty stressful for me lately, leaving me with not much energy to write, and now I'm sick, lol. But thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone for your kind reviews, follows, and favorites! They mean a lot to me and really keep me going! :-) I'm so happy that you guys are enjoying this story as much as I am! So, some of the Avengers are about to be forcefully reunited, Peter's at school and doesn't want to be, and Tony's not in a great situation. How will all this go? Let's find out! Here's a longer chapter to hopefully make up for my absence. Enjoy! :-)

 _Chapter 10– Fractures_

"Rhodey!"

Pepper stared back at the colonel, startled. She glanced down at the burn cream, antiseptic ointment, and wrap bandages she held before quickly looking back at her friend with wide eyes. She watched as different emotions flitted across his face as he looked at all three renegade Avengers and took in the situation– confusion, disbelief, realization... and then anger when his gaze focused solely on Steve.

Natasha stiffened from her spot on the couch when she saw her former teammate's visage darken. Sam, sensing the escalating tension, took a slow step forward and raised a placating hand. "All right, man," he muttered, keeping his tone even. "Let's just keep it cool, okay? Give us a chance to explain..."

But Rhodey wasn't in the mood to hear any explanations. "What the _hell_ do you think you're doing here?" he demanded, his fierce gaze never leaving Steve's bearded face. While the other man's expression remained blank, there was something in his light eyes that he couldn't quite place. Regret? Sympathy? He wasn't entirely sure, but it didn't matter much to him at that moment.

In an instant, Natasha was on her feet, her manicured hands lingering near the purse she now carried with her. Sam took a more aggressive stance, standing in front of Rhodey to block his way when the latter took a few steps closer. "C'mon, man, just keep it co–!"

"No," Rhodey interrupted quietly, his voice trembling ever so slightly as he gave a brief shake of his head to the man he'd considered a friend. "No, you don't get to say anything right now." He then turned his attention back to Steve, who hadn't moved, and his voice rose again. "Do you have _any_ idea what your actions have done? What they've cost?"

The Super Soldier sighed quietly, and while his brow furrowed a bit under the pressure of the words, his gaze remained steady and locked on the colonel.

"I mean, did you even _think_ about what sort of damage your choices could cause?" Rhodey continued, his temper rising by the other man's lack of response. "Because from where I'm standing, it doesn't appear that way. And I swear, if you made that choice because you thought it wasn't going to be found out and you wouldn't ever have to deal with it, I'm gonna..."

"Rhodey," Pepper said softly, taking a step forward herself. "Please..." But she paused when a gentle hand landed on her arm. She glanced down to see Steve had reached out for her, and it was at that moment Rhodey noticed the CEO had been in the process of wrapping up a long gash on the man's right arm.

"No," the Captain murmured. "He's right." He then slowly pushed himself to his feet, wincing a little at the motion as Natasha set a steadying hand on his back. He took a deep breath as he once again met the infuriated War Machine's gaze. "I'm sorry, Rhodey."

"You're _sorry_?" the colonel repeated in disbelief before he let out a short, sharp laugh. "Sorry ain't gonna cut it, man."

"And I know that, too," Steve replied evenly. Calmly. "Nor do I expect it to. But I just need you to know that we're on the same side here."

"The same side?" Rhodey took a deep breath, willing his temper to calm a little as he walked past Sam, who didn't try to stop him but kept a close eye on him nonetheless. He ignored the stiffness in his left knee, the small hitch in the mechanical support, as he came to a stop directly in front of Steve. "Really? Is that how you wanna play it now?"

"Rhodey..." Natasha began in a warning tone, but she stopped when Steve rose a hand.

The colonel completely ignored her. His attention was solely on the Super Soldier in front of him. "Funny you say that. Forget the damned Accords. You seemed to forget we were on the _same side_ when I lost the ability to walk on my own." Behind him, Rhodey heard Sam hiss. He knew it was a low blow, that the other man had only moved out of the way of the blast from Vision and his paralysis hadn't been his intention nor his fault, but at that moment, he didn't care. He'd been internalizing this very conversation for far too long to pull back now.

"And last time I checked, Steve, it's not the _same side_ when you keep the truth from someone who trusts you about a tragic event in their life to save your own skin, especially when that person's trust is hard to come by," he finished in just above a heated whisper.

That hit Steve hard, he could see it in the way he flinched ever so slightly. The Captain, for the first time, lowered his gaze, no longer able to hold it. Beside him, Pepper took a deep breath, trying to keep her own cool, but her hands were shaking so much that she dropped the first aid materials. Cursing under her breath, she began to crouch down to pick them up, but Sam appeared at her side and reached them first.

"I got it, Pepper."

Rhodey, meanwhile, continued to stare a hole through Steve, allowing his words to sink in for a moment longer while Natasha did the same to him. "You never even thought it through."

"That's where you're wrong," the Super Soldier murmured, not looking up.

"Am I?" Rhodey arched an eyebrow. "Then by all means fill me in, Steve. Because I really don't get it."

Steve raised his gaze back to the other man's, attempting to keep his own building frustration under control. "After I found out what truly happened to Howard and his wife that night, I wasn't sure what to do," he told him. "There wasn't a necessarily good way to handle this information. But I didn't think it would..." He paused when the colonel's other eyebrow rose, and he sighed. "Look. Would I have preferred to tell Tony about what happened myself rather than Zemo? Of course. I didn't know that's what he was going to–!"

"Would you have?" Rhodey pressed, interrupting him. "If Zemo hadn't gone through all the trouble of framing Barnes to pull him out of hiding and to get that security footage, you would have told Tony the truth about his parents?"

It took a moment for Steve to answer. "Yes, once I figured out how."

"You sure about that?"

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but Rhodey continued before he could.

"People died, Steve," he continued, his tone once again dangerously quiet. "Do you have any idea how long Tony spent believing... no, _blaming_ Howard for what happened that night? That maybe he'd drank too much and crashed due to the conditions? Howard may not have been 'father of the year', but..."

"You don't think I regret what happened to him and his wife?" Steve wondered, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Of course I do. Howard was my friend. And to think that my best friend, someone who's like my brother, was responsible for that..."

"Your friend? Great, I don't doubt that you regret what happened to your _friend_ , but Tony is his _son_." Rhodey took a deep breath, shaking his head. "While it may have been complicated, he loved Howard. And to have spent all that time believing that his father..."

"I would have told him," Steve interrupted, a bit more bite to his voice now. He took a step closer to the colonel. "I told you, I just had to figure out how."

"You clearly waited too long."

Steve let out a long breath before he conceded the words with a nod. "Yes," he agreed, regret lacing his tone. "Because Zemo did it first. But really, I... I know it was selfish of me, but I was concerned about losing Tony because–!"

"Losing Tony?" Rhodey gazed at him incredulously. "Don't you think that happened anyway when he found out you _knew_ about what happened and _didn't_ tell him? That you'd stand by Barnes even in the face of that? That _Zemo_ had to be the one to tell him the truth?"

Steve's gaze faltered. "Bucky's my brother. And if I'd have to lose Tony because I couldn't give up on him..." He paused for a moment. "And as I said, I didn't know what Zemo–!"

"No, Steve. This isn't all on Zemo," Rhodey cut in calmly. He paused for a moment, lightly worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "When Tony came back from Siberia... he was in a state of mind I haven't seen him in for quite some time. Years, actually. When he wasn't trying to help me walk again, he was quiet, drawn into himself. Hitting the bottle a little more again. He was a man whose world had just crumbled around him. Not just because he learned that his parents were actually _murdered_ , but because someone he _trusted_ kept that information from him. And once you lose Tony's trust, it's damn near impossible to get it back again. Barnes may have actually done the deed, and Zemo may have been the one to reveal it. But you... _you_ were that trusted friend that he _should_ have heard it from. And _that_ is what was eating him up. That he allowed himself to trust someone and got stabbed in the back for it. _Again_."

Silence passed between the two men, both of their gazes steady as their wills forcefully clashed. Neither relented, yet neither pushed forward. Finally, the Super Soldier opened his mouth to offer a response, but another, higher pitched voice beat him to it.

"Okay, guys, that's enough," Pepper said as she finished accepting the rest of the medical supplies from Sam. She moved forward, positioning herself between the colonel and the Captain. "Rhodey, you know I still care about Tony's well-being. That's why I accepted Steve's help when he called. And I figured that we could use a little more help than when it was just us to find him. We didn't necessarily have the most... tiptop team..."

Rhodey's face fell as he turned to meet her gaze. The fury was no longer there, but rather resignation since he couldn't refute her point. With him not in perfect condition, with Pepper and Happy as emotionally compromised as they were, and with Peter who was still on the mend from some sort of hallucinogenic gas– and not to mention only _fifteen years old–_ they weren't necessarily in the best shape. He suddenly appeared worn out and much older.

"Please," the CEO whispered when she had his attention. "Just until we find Tony, can you guys please get along? At least try? You're friends, you're teammates. Please just remember that until he's safe... And then you two can be in each other's faces and yelling until you're both hoarse for all I care. But Tony's safe return is what's most important to both of you right now. I know that for certain. And we'll have a better chance of getting him home safely if we can just work together for the time being. Okay?" She glanced over her shoulder at Steve at the question.

A moment passed before the Super Soldier nodded. There was a note of anxiety, almost desperation, in her voice, he noticed. He made a mental note to ask her about that at some point. "Of course," he assured her gently. "That's why I'm here." He then looked back at Rhodey. "Truce? I mean, since we didn't sign the Accords, we've got a bit more flexibility here..."

"Ha. We'll see how much flexibility you have in a prison cell," Rhodey said.

Steve arched an eyebrow. "You going to turn me in?" he challenged.

Surprisingly, a small smirk appeared at the corner of the colonel's lips. "Maybe later," he replied, a touch of that dry humor that was so befitting of him in his voice. The look then waned, and he let out a low breath. "For now, let's just focus on bringing Tony home."

"Let's bring him home," Steve agreed, holding his hand out for the other man to shake.

Rhodey briefly hesitated, sighing when he felt Pepper's eyes on him imploringly. He then nodded once before reaching out and grasping the Captain's hand.

"Truce."

* * *

Peter twirled the dial on his locker again with a long suffering sigh, trying for the fourth time to get the combination right. Sure, he knew it by heart, but he was really frustrated that the numbers had to be lined up _exactly_ on the lock in order for it to be unlocked. And that sort of precision just wasn't his priority today. He groaned under his breath when he missed the third number yet again– he'd been so _close_ – before quickly spinning it to the left to start over. This day had barely even gotten started and he just wanted it to be done already. Why couldn't Happy or Rhodey or Pepper call him with _something_ , _anything,_ that could possibly be of some sort of help? That _he_ could do to help?

That small sense in the back of his mind told him that something was approaching and approaching quickly, but the teen still jumped when that something smacked hard into the locker beside him, causing a loud _boom_ to echo through the already too loud, and too bright if he were being honest, hallway. He quickly glanced over to see Ned Leeds, slightly red in the face and clearly out of breath, looking back at him with wide, panic-stricken eyes.

"Did you hear?" he gasped out, holding the front page of a newspaper out in front of him with shaking hands. Peter only had to give it a brief glance to know exactly what the story was: _Stark Presumed Dead, Spider-Man to Blame?_ "Peter... what the hell, man? What'd you do?"

" _What_?! Ned, I..." Peter paused, inhaling deeply as he waited for Cindy Moon and Seymour O'Reilly to rush past them in order to get to their first class, Tiny McKeever hurrying along behind them. He then grabbed his best friend's arm and pulled him off to the side, turning the corner into an adjacent hall to give them a little more privacy.

"Ned, I didn't _do_ _anything_ ," Peter started again in a hiss, still taking a cautious glance around to make sure that no one would overhear them. "Someone's trying to frame me."

"Frame you?" Ned repeated, his eyebrows raising in bewilderment. "I mean... I have no doubt about that, I knew you couldn't do anything like this, but... Why would someone try to frame _you_?"

At that, Peter sighed and gave a frustrated shrug. "I don't know," he admitted, hating the words as he spoke them. "I haven't figured that part out yet. But it could be the guy with wings. I'm not sure who else would, or could, have done this."

Ned's eyes went even wider, if possible. "No way... That's some serious stuff, man." He then glanced down at the newspaper he held. "So... is Mr. Stark... is he really...?"

"No," Peter answered. It was a bit quickly, he knew, but just like when he'd talked to Aunt May earlier that morning, something was telling him that the billionaire was still alive. "He's still out there somewhere, I'm just not sure where the guy with wings could have brought him. But I really should be out there helping the others find him... being here isn't helping."

"Yeah, but... I get that, and it's cool and all that you're, like, helping other people with this hero thing and stuff... I mean, it sounds like _Avenger stuff_... But, dude, you're already in _so_ much trouble with Principal Morita for trying to skip classes and skipping detention... If you skip again, you could be expelled. And be forced to go to that school where the teachers have crossbows!"

Peter arched an eyebrow before he sighed and shook his head. "Honestly, Ned, I don't care about that. About any of this." He paused, gesturing at the bustling hall and all of the students milling about around them. "It's like... I don't know how to explain it." He lightly bit his lip, trying to get all of his thoughts together. "Like, okay. Yesterday, Mr. Stark almost took my suit from me. He basically said I didn't deserve it. And... quite frankly, I think he had a point... Things on that ferry could have ended in complete disaster if he hadn't been there. And now... because of me... he's in some sort of danger. And..."

He swallowed the lump that he could feel threatening to form in his throat. "But... when that guy with wings attacked us... when that building exploded... those things happening somehow allowed me to keep my suit. And I feel like because of that, I'm being given another chance to prove Mr. Stark, and myself, wrong. That I _can_ have this suit and be Spider-Man proudly. As I should be. As I should have been this whole time after Uncle Ben... But how can I do that, how can I save Mr. Stark if I'm cooped up in here, Ned? Like, there are things that are _so_ much bigger than high school. And this is one of them. You know what I mean?"

As he spoke, the web-slinger felt his brow furrow slightly as what felt like the beginning of a memory started to poke its way out from the still slightly fuzzy parts of his mind. A glint of metal... yes. The wings of the bird man, maybe?

Ned listened to his best friend with his mouth hanging open a little, an almost inspired look in his eye. He took a deep breath, and Peter assumed that he was about to go into a spiel about how he could skip high school with him and be his "guy in the chair", but he was rudely interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat from the other end of the hall. Both teens quickly looked over to see that dark-haired Principal Morita himself had stepped out of his office, glancing at his watch.

"I'd get moving if I were you, boys," he said, a clear warning in his tone. "Class starts in just a couple minutes now." His stern gaze lingered on Peter in particular for a moment longer before he turned on his heel and wandered down the hall to shepherd other wayward students to where they were supposed to be.

Peter and Ned immediately turned back to each other. "I'll talk to you later," the former muttered. "Next class if I can. Deal?"

Though clearly disappointed, Ned had no choice but to nod. "Deal," he agreed. "I gotta get all the details here, man."

"Sure." They then proceeded to go through the movements of their multi-step handshake before Peter hurried to his locker, managing to finally get it unlocked and open on the second try. He rummaged around and pulled out his math and science textbooks he'd need for his first couple classes as well as his workbook for shop class later before closing and locking it up again and hurrying down the hall toward his first period room. He skidded to a stop behind a couple of his classmates as they were waiting to get inside, and he just managed to sneak his way in just as the bell rang to start the day.

Peter took his seat not too far behind Flash Thompson, a boy one year older than him who was also on the decathlon team with him... and who happened to be the last person on the entire planet he wanted to see right then. Anytime, really, but particularly when he still wasn't feeling one-hundred percent and the white noise around him was just a little too loud and the overhead lights were just a little too bright. He briefly closed his eyes and massaged his temples before reaching into his backpack and pulling out his notebook, a pencil, and the thick textbook he'd need for the duration of the period.

At the front of the room, Mrs. Monica Warren was writing out some equations on the board that they'd start the class with, and Peter yawned before he began to copy them down himself. He ignored the sneering look that Flash sent his way over his shoulder and the quiet snickering of the older boy as he instead tried to focus on the numbers and symbols he was writing down in his notebook in front of him.

Though as hard as he tried, his focus just wasn't there. Even though the problems themselves weren't hard and he could at any other time likely solve them in his sleep, the numbers just weren't making sense and the symbols just didn't look right. The teen rubbed his tired eyes, chalking it up to how tired he still seemed to be after the events of the day before, his worry for Tony along with his desire to help him and his curiosity if the others had found out anything after he'd left last night, how he wanted to be anywhere _but_ in this classroom at that moment, and how all of his senses seemed to be annoyingly dialed to eleven. These arithmetic problems just didn't seem all that important in the grand scheme of things. It's not like they were graded or anything, rather just some exercises to get their brains going so early in the morning.

So instead of working on the problems, the web-slinger found himself starting to sketch out the metallic... _thing_ that he was struggling to remember, the primary piece of a buried memory that was struggling to make its way to the surface. But as he continued, he began to realize that it wasn't turning out to look like the wings that belonged to the bird man like he'd initially expected, but rather like... something else... something familiar that he knew he'd seen before...

 _The gunshot echoed around him, louder than he'd expected. He was startled out of his thoughts– his concern for his Uncle Ben that he knew he still had to help and his confusion about what possibly could have been causing Tony to act so strangely– when the billionaire tightly gripped his arm and yanked him so that he was standing further back. His eyes widened when Tony stepped in front of him for only a brief moment before crying out in pain and slouching over before finally weakly collapsing to the rooftop, his hands pressed tightly over his abdomen._

 _"M-Mr... Mr. Stark?" Peter's eyes widened in fear as he took a couple steps closer to the man, noticing his visage was starting to pale drastically, his breathing was growing more and more labored, and scarlet was starting to stain his fingers from through his black shirt._

 _"Mr. Stark!" His sluggish mind finally realizing that the billionaire had been shot... shot to_ protect _him... the teen closed the rest of the distance between them in a rush and knelt down beside him, placing a hand on his arm. "Mr. Stark, are you all right?"_

 _However, Tony, despite the shock on his face and the pain he was clearly in, pushed Peter away from him with a force the latter wasn't expecting, causing him to topple onto his behind. "No, kid..." he gasped, grimacing as he raised himself up onto one arm. "Leave... get out of here... now."_

 _Peter anxiously shook his head, his own breathing starting to quicken. He didn't want to think of what could happen to his mentor if he left him behind now with that gunshot wound and no way off the building other than with him. "N-no... not without you..." he stammered, his voice breaking a bit and rising to a bit of a higher pitch than he would have liked._

 _But Tony glared back at him as he continued to push himself up with a strength from deep within until he was able to take a knee, having a little more difficulty drawing in breath as he managed to keep himself between the impending threat and the teen behind him. "No time... to argue," he forced himself to mutter, his sharp hazel gaze solely fixed on their attacker. "Stop stopping and run... now!"_

 _The force of his words surprised the web-slinger, but he still shook his head with determination as he once again advanced toward the billionaire. How could he so easily expect him to leave him behind... how could he expect him to leave his_ uncle _behind...?_

 _Though once again, Tony shoved him forcefully back, only causing him to stagger this time. "Are you... not hearing me, or... just being too much of a stubborn ass to listen?" he snapped, his voice tight with pain. "It's not that hard, kid. Run. Get out of here. Now."_

 _"... Mr. Stark..."_

 _Seeming to realize that the kid just wasn't going to leave, Tony's shoulders slumped as he sighed with defeat, sparing him a glance over his shoulder. Despite how a little bit of blood was starting to appear at the corner of his mouth, he managed to give Peter a small smile. "I'll join you as soon as I can, Underoos," he murmured, coughing a little. "I'll be... right behind you..."_

 _Peter looked back at his mentor, knowing that despite the promise in his words and in that smile that it was a complete lie. Tony sounded almost... resigned. Resigned that he wouldn't be leaving that rooftop. Because of him. Because he had taken that bullet for him because he wasn't paying attention. Because he now wanted him to escape from that building. Without him. It made him want to protest all the more, and he shook his head and opened his mouth to do so._

 _But before he could utter another word, the teen paused when he heard heavy footsteps, and for the first time, he looked up to face who had ambushed them. The first thing he saw through the light haze was a pair of black combat boots making their way closer to him. As the figure got closer, Peter's eyes slowly widened as he began to recognize the dark hair that fell to the man's chin, the piercing blue eyes rimmed with black that were gazing intently at them over the cloth mask that covered most of his pale face. But most importantly, he recognized the glint of the metallic arm with a red star on it holding the high-powered assault rifle, which he was raising in their direction once again._

 _Tony grunted as he managed to push himself to his feet, swaying a little as he wrapped an arm around his midsection while using the other to push the web-slinger closer to the edge of the roof. "Go!"_

 _This time, something deep within him moved. Peter quickly slipped his mask back on, getting another glance at their attacker in time to see him pull out a small, metallic ball out of a pouch at his hip and carefully roll it in their direction, before, against his wishes, his body turned and dashed for the side of the building. He flinched when he heard another gunshot pierce the air, but he kept running. Despite how much he didn't want to. He felt as though he had no control._

No... no! Stop! Turn back! Mr. Stark!

 _But his feet stubbornly refused to listen to his racing brain. His body was almost acting on its own volition. The edge loomed nearer and nearer, and he held his breath as he reached it and took that leap of faith, slinging a web strand out to catch_ anything _to slow his fall._

... I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark... I'll come back for you...

 _He felt the web line catch, and he sighed in relief knowing that he at least wouldn't end up flat on the concrete far below. But then, a sound louder than anything he'd heard before rocked his entire body as an intense, scorching heat was felt against his back, and he knew no more._

"Mr. Stark!"

Peter's eyes snapped open as he quickly gasped for breath and looked around him, squinting a bit in the bright light as he took a moment to figure out where he was. His face was covered in sweat and he could feel a thin line of tears threatening to form in his eyes as his chest heaved, and his racing mind began to take in the scene around him. He wasn't on top of that building, nor was he swinging through the air before his descent was noticeably sped up after the explosion hit. Instead he was lying on his back on the hard floor of his first period classroom. Students had gathered in a tight group around him, all muttering to themselves about the scene he had most likely caused, and the teen felt himself flush with embarrassment as he slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position before he ran a hand over his clammy face and forced back the tears that he wouldn't allow to form. There was already too much damage done here for that.

Over the murmurs of concern and confusion, he thought he picked out quiet snickering, and Peter's gaze landed on Flash, who was still seated at his table. Their eyes met, and the older boy feigned a fainting spell as he put the back of his hand on his forehead and mouthed the words "Mr. Stark". Great. Had he actually said that _out loud_? He'd never hear the end of it now.

"Out of my way. Out of my way!"

Peter looked up in time to see Mrs. Warren pushing her way through the crowd of students, somehow looking both annoyed that her lesson had been disturbed and concerned that one of her pupils had fainted in class. "Mr. Parker, are you all right? Did you hit your head when you fell?"

The web-slinger attempted to figure that out. His head hurt, but it was more the building ache in his temples that had been there since he'd gotten to school rather than it colliding with something on his short trip to the floor. With a brief shake of his head, he managed to mutter, "N-no..."

What was wrong with him? His racing mind refused to slow down, as did his heart, he couldn't seem to catch his breath, his hands were shaking...

This hadn't happened since shortly after Ben had died, he realized. In the wake of his uncle's death, when he'd decided to be Spider-Man, he'd been plagued with terrible nightmares of the event, often causing him to have spells of severe anxiety attacks.

No, no, no... This couldn't be happening again... not now...

 _Just breathe!_

His thoughts were interrupted when Mrs. Warren knelt in front of him, looking into his panicked eyes with her own calming gaze. "Can you stand?"

Peter nodded, and he accepted her hand as she helped him to his feet. She then set a warm, steadying hand on his back. "Step out into the hall, please. And you should probably bring your things." She then turned to the rest of the students who were still gathered around them. "The rest of you, back to your seats. Continue working on these problems. And no talking."

As she spoke, the web-slinger quickly gathered up his book and notebook into his backpack. He grabbed his pencil, seeing that he'd seemed to have nearly snapped it in half, before tossing that in as well before he zipped it up and slipped it onto his shoulder. Trying to get his breathing under control, he glanced once more time at Flash, who once again mouthed the words "Mr. Stark", before he followed Mrs. Warren toward the door, each _click_ of her heels almost echoing as loudly as the gunshots from his memory in his ears.

Soon, they were both standing out in the hall, and Mrs. Warren kept the door open a little so she could hear what was going on inside the classroom. She took a deep breath as she gazed at the teen, studying his face closely. "Are you all right, Mr. Parker?" she wondered quietly. "You're awfully pale and just fainted in there."

Peter nodded. "I'm all right," he told her, his voice breaking a little. He still couldn't breathe. "Just... stressed. Tired. That's all."

It was easy to tell by the look on her face that she didn't believe a word of it. "Try to take slow, deep breaths," she muttered. When Peter tried to follow what she said and still couldn't quite do it, she sighed. "What you said in there..."

"I'm sorry for whatever was said." Peter swallowed the lump he could feel forming in his throat. "I didn't meant to... to disrupt the class. I..."

He was stopped when Mrs. Warren set a light hand on his shoulder, and he finally raised his gaze to meet hers. The worry he saw there almost made him lose his resolve. "I know you have that internship with Tony Stark, so I can't imagine how the news last night must have made you feel," she said. "Have you talked about that with anyone?"

Peter slowly shook his head. He just wished that his heart and breathing would cooperate. He had to calm down, but he also had to get out of there. He had to tell someone what he'd remembered. "N-no..."

Mrs. Warren's brow furrowed. "Mr. Parker? Why don't you go down to see the counselor?" she suggested. "Just to talk a few things out and to calm down?"

The counselor? At least he wasn't in trouble and going to be sent to Principal Morita, but... The regular counselor was gone on maternity leave for the rest of the year, and no student had really met her replacement yet. But if Flash found out that he was going to the counselor's office on top of fainting in class, he'd be done for.

"I... I don't think that's... that's necessary..."

"Peter." Mrs. Warren's tone was sharp, but not in an uncaring way. "You're not the first student to have a panic attack in my classroom. This is your best option, unless you want your aunt to be involved here." A small, good-natured smile appeared on her face when the web-slinger quickly shook his head in protest. "Okay, then."

Peter watched as she leaned into the room behind her before she came back with the cardboard hall pass and handed it to him. "Take as much time as you need," she said. "Sort this all out, it'll help. And just breathe. Deep, even breaths. Just make sure to come back here when you're done. Okay?"

"O-okay..."

Mrs. Warren lightly patted his shoulder before she stepped back inside her classroom, shutting the door behind her to continue the lesson. Peter stood there for a moment, unmoving as he stared down at the hall pass he held and tried to settle his breathing. It worked a little bit, but when he took off walking, he didn't head in the direction of the counselor's office. Instead, he ran down the hall in the direction of the men's bathroom, relieved to find the stalls empty when he rushed inside. He dropped the hall pass as he threw his backpack on one of the sinks, quickly opening and digging through it until he found his cell phone. He saw with a brief glance at the screen that he hadn't missed a thing, but he fumbled with the buttons as he searched for a familiar number. The teen nearly dropped the phone as he brought it to his ear, just as it began to ring.

"C'mon... pick up, pick up..."

* * *

Parked on a suburban block not far away from Midtown in Queens sipping on a lukewarm coffee left over from his breakfast at a small diner, Happy Hogan was sitting– no, _stewing–_ behind the wheel of his car. He continued to stare at his phone through his sunglasses, his fingers tapping impatiently against the styrofoam mug in his other hand as his brow furrowed.

What in the world was taking Rhodey so long to call him back? And why wasn't he answering his phone? They could have started this hunt for Aaron Davis almost an hour ago already. Instead, he'd been sitting in his car, sipping on average coffee and getting weird looks from mothers out pushing their babies in strollers and elderly couples out for a morning walk.

It was frustrating to say the least.

Sighing, the head of security tossed his phone to the passenger seat before turning in his own, feeling around for something on the floor of the backseat. Finally finding it, he grabbed the tablet given to him by Tony and leaned it against the steering wheel, brushing the screen off a bit before turning it on. As he waited for the device to load, he took another sip of that average coffee with a smug smile. If the colonel wasn't going to call him back, then he'd just have to figure out where this Aaron Davis lived himself and start the hunt for the missing billionaire on his own.

Then, he finally heard the sound he'd been waiting to hear for what felt like forever– his phone started to ring.

"Finally," Happy muttered as his tablet's home screen came on, and he carefully leaned over and picked up his phone. "About damn time..."

However, his eyes narrowed when he saw a number he wasn't expecting, and he answered the call with a frown. "Aren't you supposed to be in class learning something right about now?"

Happy's eyebrows rose before they knitted together. "Whoa, whoa, whoa... slow down, kid, I can't understand you when you're running your mouth a mile a minute," he said. "What now? Huh? Slow down... Can you repeat that? Did you say you remembered something?"

Then, the head of security nearly dropped the phone when Peter finally managed to slow down enough to say something distinguishable but still anxious.

 _"Happy... it... it wasn't the guy with wings who attacked us... It was the guy... the guy with the metal arm... He... he's the one who hurt Mr. Stark!"_

* * *

The first hit was unexpected, as part of his mind was telling him that Bakaar and Raza were only hallucinations from the gas.

Tony gasped as the former's fist landed solidly on his stomach not far from where the bullet had pierced him, robbing him of breath as he slumped forward onto his knees. He didn't have a chance to take a full breath before a hand grabbed his hair roughly and Raza's fist connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor. The billionaire coughed violently as air finally forced its way back into his lungs, and he was hardly able to start pushing himself into a sitting position in attempt to ward them off before a foot connected with his ribs. The wind was knocked out of him again, and the pain caused dark spots to dance in front of his eyes.

No... he wasn't back _there_ , he had to keep reminding himself. His hand slowly curled into a fist, trying to listen for Bakaar or Raza to come closer over the sound of his own harsh breathing so he could force them back. To fight them off, to keep them from reaching Yinsen.

He wasn't back there... he could _never_ be back there...

But before any more blows could be landed, a voice echoed around the room. "All right, that's enough."

The billionaire's breath caught in his chest as the words took hold in his racing mind. That voice... he _knew_ that voice...

A moment passed before he slowly pushed himself up on one arm and looked up to see both Bakaar and Raza towering over him. Behind them, the cheap Bucky knockoff was leaning against the door, his arms folded across his chest as he watched what had been happening in amusement.

But he hadn't been the one who had spoken. It had been the man next to him.

Tony forced his gaze to focus on him, dreading what he knew he would see. Of course, he'd recognize that outfit anywhere, the one made of the good ol' red, white, and blue. The light hair was styled short and immaculate, just like always. Those blue eyes gazed back at him, seeming to be able to see right through him to those deepest parts of him he often kept hidden.

It was the face... the clean-shaven face that didn't seem right. That smirk... that _cruel_ smirk... was all wrong. It didn't fit him.

But yet, there was no denying that smirk was residing in the familiar handsome features of Steve Rogers.

 **Author's Note:** Annnnnd, there's that! Aside from that pretty evil ending, at least Peter remembers the last bit of what happened so that they can get on the right track (despite the panic attack...)! And after a rather explosive reunion, these Avengers are more or less back on the same page to find Tony. So things are headed in the right direction! At least for now ;-) I'm so sorry again for my absence, you guys! I'll try to get the next chapter up sooner next time. As always, feedback is always appreciated! Until next time!


	11. Chapter 11- Fathers and Sons

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit. Any lines from _Spider-Man: Homecoming_ are not mine!

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Hey, guys! I'm SO sorry about the delay! Real life's been busy, especially around the holiday season (I hope everyone had a happy Thanksgiving if you celebrated! I should have the next chapter up before Christmas, lol). Plus, a couple of these sections just didn't come easily, no matter how many times I sat down to get at them. But how about that _Infinity War_ trailer, huh?! It's been quite a while since I've been so excited yet sooooo nervous about a movie, lol. But anyway, thank you all for being so patient with me, and thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and follows, they mean a lot to me and keep me going! To make up for it, this is a nice long one for ya! Plus, there's a new character alert in here. It's sooner than I planned, but said character was very insistent to maneuver his way in here, lol. So with all that said, hope you enjoy! :-)

In response to **guest** : You'd be right! But sooner or later, it's gonna be harder to tell that for poor Tony...

In response to **Kushio3** : Thank you so much for your review! This guy has plenty of people to play whoever he wants to get to Tony :-) I will say you're right about it not actually being the Ten Rings, as yup, that is just to make Tony squirm. Thank you so much, I'm so happy that you enjoyed it! And that you're enjoying everyone's interactions! It would be *very* awesome for Peter to fix Rhodey's leg braces for him, I love this idea! Thank you for bringing this up! Consider it included! :-) Thank you again!

 _Chapter 11– Fathers and Sons_

"So, what have we got so far?"

Pepper and Rhodey exchanged a glance from where they were sitting next to each other on one of the couches in the spacious living room, both briefly nodding before she started quickly typing something on the keyboard on her lap. She glanced ahead when the large monitor appeared digitally in front of them, displaying a news story about the near disaster at the ferry the evening before.

"Since recruited by Tony a couple months ago, Spider-Man's actively been trying to... earn his spot on the team, shall we say?" the CEO explained, glancing at where Steve was sitting on her other side before looking over at one of the adjacent couches where Natasha was perched with Sam leaning against the arm next to her. "Just small stuff around the city at first. But he was getting restless and really wanted to do more. Which led us to this incident. According to Spider-Man, there's a group of arms dealers out there who had somehow gotten their hands on some Chitauri technology after you guys fought them all those years ago and used it to make weapons."

"Any idea how that could have happened?" Steve wondered, leaning forward a bit as he looked over the article with interest as he absently brushed his fingers over his wrapped arm, which was still stinging a bit beneath the bandage. Luckily, all the injuries he'd received after more of the building had collapsed hadn't been too serious, and it hadn't taken Pepper long to finish tending to them after the heated confrontation with Rhodey.

"No, not really," Pepper muttered. "Department of Damage Control was thorough with cleanup and repair operations both in the Tower and in other areas. I suppose some of it could have been picked up randomly by others, but to actually be turned into weapons? No idea."

"Were they the first ones on the scene?" Natasha pressed thoughtfully. "Both here or at other locations?"

"I think we had a team of salvage workers who were first contracted to do some cleanup before Tony called in Damage Control," Rhodey replied. "Someone through the city."

"Would you be able to find out who those salvage workers were?"

"I'm sure I could track it down in the files somewhere, we always keep track of who comes in and out of this building," Pepper muttered, lightly worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she began to run a mental list of where that information could be found. "Or figure out who knows that information."

Steve nodded, mulling these details over. "Just a thought," he said. "Go ahead, please continue."

"So, Spider-Man decided to go after these arms dealers with this Chitauri weaponry," Pepper told them. "He didn't really get far. Apparently, at the head of this group is a man who he's described to us as 'bird-like'. He flies around using these metallic wings, and–!"

"Whoa, whoa, hold up," Sam cut in with a frown. "You mean there's someone else running around with a metallic wings gimmick now? That's not cool, man..."

"Well, you weren't the first bird of the team either, Sam," Natasha quipped as she glanced up at him.

Sam met her gaze, a grin spreading across his face. "That may be, but he ain't got wings."

Natasha simply smirked.

Steve quietly cleared his throat, attempting to get everyone back on track.

"So, anyway, Tony looked into the claims about the arms dealers and got the FBI involved." Pepper sighed as she gazed at the news story looming in front of her. "They were on that ferry, ready to move in when that deal went down. But Spider-Man didn't know that, and everything backfired. That's why the ferry nearly sank. Tony was furious..."

Hearing her voice start to falter and catch, Rhodey continued for her, "The FBI managed to round up most these guys. But not the guy with wings and I think one other. And no one's talkin'. We're thinking this bird man could possibly have something to do with that building explosion and Tony's disappearance, as it wouldn't have taken much for him to get up to that rooftop. And he wouldn't be too happy having Iron Man intervening in his business."

Steve thought this over. "So do you have any leads on this... man with wings? He seems like he could be a likely candidate."

"Yeah, I've got one, but I'm not sure how good it is." Rhodey took the keyboard from Pepper and quickly typed something in. The screen before them changed from the news story about the ferry to a police report and driver's license photo. He glanced down at his phone when he felt it vibrate, seeing Happy was calling him. Again. Sighing, he ignored it. He realized he was leaving the head of security waiting, but he'd forgotten all about calling him when he'd discovered the renegade Avengers hiding out in the Tower. The other man would just have to wait.

"This is Aaron Davis," the colonel explained. "Apparently he wanted to make a deal with these guys about buying a weapon, but he decided against it when he realized just what sort of weapons they were selling. Despite having a bit of a record, he doesn't seem to be a bad guy. Just wants the crazy weaponry out of his neighborhood. Spider-Man already talked to him, telling us Davis didn't know anything about the guy with wings, but it wouldn't hurt to have another chat with him, anyway. Happy and I were gonna go this morning, see if we could jog his memory a little bit."

Steve nodded. "Good idea," he agreed, glancing at the blonde woman. "Nat, why don't you join them? Sometimes, people being questioned will say different things to different people."

Natasha nodded. "Sure. Haven't interrogated someone in a while. Could be fun."

Rhodey arched an eyebrow in her direction. The assassin simply smiled sweetly in return.

"Sam's got some footage on Redwing from that building before it collapsed further last night that he was going to look through to see if he could find anything helpful," the Super Soldier continued, and the man in question quickly bent down to pick up the backpack resting by his feet before he began to dig through it. "And based on what he finds, I was thinking of trying to get another look at the area down by the harbor while there's daylight. There could possibly be something easier to see now than at night, something I could have missed. Even though there most likely isn't anything to be found there now..."

He paused before turning to Pepper, appearing slightly hesitant. "Though I did find a couple things last night."

The CEO instantly straightened her posture ever so slightly. "What did you find?" she asked in nearly a whisper, attempting to keep her voice level.

Steve's brow furrowed before he cast his light gaze to Sam. Falcon, now with Redwing under his arm, sighed as he slowly passed his backpack over to the Captain.

Pepper leaned a little closer as Steve began to dig around inside. She held her breath and folded her hands tightly in her lap, bracing herself for things that certainly couldn't be pleasant. She allowed the tiniest hint of a smile when Rhodey set a hand on her knee, appreciating the silent support.

"Well, there's this," the Super Soldier muttered. "It doesn't necessarily have to be Tony's, I suppose, but it was at the site..."

For a moment, the CEO could believe that the black suit jacket, one that was torn in places and burned around some of the edges, didn't belong to the man she'd shared so much of both her professional and personal life with. She _wanted_ to believe that. But it didn't last too long before she couldn't deny the reality when something caught her eye, and she reached forward with slightly shaking hands to take it from him.

"It's his," she confirmed softly, brushing some lingering ash off the soft material that she felt like she'd affectionately straightened out for Tony what felt like so long ago now. She opened the jacket a little to reveal the seam of the inner lining of the left shoulder, which was stitched with bright pink thread.

"It tore before an important week-long conference he had to lead," Pepper continued, smiling slightly as she recalled the memory. "I'd offered to fix it for him so it wouldn't get worse, but this was the only thread I had on me at the time since I was stitching one of my skirts that's this color. He'd constantly give me a hard time about it, saying he'd have to fix it again with the right color himself even though no one would see it unless he showed them." Her voice wavered as a thin line of tears formed in her eyes. "But he never did..."

The colonel tightened his hold on her knee a little, and she took a deep breath and furiously blinked before she folded the jacket neatly and draped it on her lap. She cleared her throat and turned her gaze to Steve, willing herself to to stay focused.

"What else was there?"

Steve sighed as he reached into the backpack yet again, rummaging around a little before pulling out what appeared to be a small, metallic sphere. "I'm sure you'll recognize this."

Pepper turned the spherical object, cool in her palm when the Captain dropped it there, in her fingers until she paused when her gaze landed on the black symbol printed on it. She gasped quietly when she immediately recognized the crossed swords surrounded by ten interlocking rings, and Rhodey leaned closer to get a better look.

"The Ten Rings?" she wondered, glancing over at the colonel. "There's no way they could be involved in this, could they?" _Not again_. She didn't want to even begin to imagine Tony in the hands of the terrorist organization for a second time, not after those three months he spent in that Afghan cave.

Rhodey briefly shook his head, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth thoughtfully. "I haven't heard any official reports about any activity from them," he told her. "Not since that whole Mandarin charade. And that wasn't even them."

"So we're likely dealing with someone who knows about Tony's time with the Ten Rings." Pepper's tone made it more of a statement than a question.

"Which isn't entirely private information," Rhodey reminded her. "Doesn't necessarily help us narrow it down."

Maybe not... But still, it was something. If anything, it told them that they were dealing with someone who had the resources to, at the very least, make it appear that the Ten Rings was somehow involved in the billionaire's disappearance. And, possibly even more importantly, proved that Peter had nothing to do with it. Not that she'd had any doubt about that, but it was still nice to hold a piece of solid evidence in her own hand, and maybe it was something that she could use to help ease some of the teen's lingering guilt.

But before she could voice any of these thoughts aloud, Rhodey let out a long suffering sigh as he looked down at his cell phone when it rang once again, only to see Happy's name flashing across the screen. Again. "Damn it... Sorry, guys, I'll just take this and get it over with," he muttered apologetically, rising from the couch and walking away from the group with a slight wince. He answered the call and brought the phone to his ear before answering in clear agitation.

"What, Happy?" A pause. "This had better be good. Damn good, you hear me?"

The CEO watched after him with concern before a gentle voice quietly reached her ears. "Pepper."

Turning, she saw Steve gazing back at her with a look that was on the verge of sympathy. "What is it?"

The Captain sighed. "There was... one more thing," he told her.

Pepper stiffened. There was something in his tone that she didn't like. But it was with determination in her voice that she said, "Show me."

Steve studied her impassive features for a brief moment before he nodded. He reached into the backpack for a third time, and Pepper's breath caught in her chest when she saw what he was offering her. She slowly reached out, almost hesitantly taking the half of a broken, dirtied golden faceplate of an Iron Man helmet and cradling it delicately in her hands. A thin line of tears formed in her eyes as she ran thin, trembling fingers over the cracked metallic surface, unable to stop a couple from escaping and rolling down her cheeks.

Uncertainly, Steve reached out and lightly wrapped his hand around hers in effort to give her even a little bit of comfort that likely wouldn't do much good, his light gaze faltering as the shaking in it stilled before she grasped his tightly in return.

Before anyone could say another word, Rhodey came back over, and Natasha leaned forward a bit while Sam slowly sat up on the couch he'd camped out on to start going through the drone's footage from the night before when they saw the look of disbelief on his face. Pepper and Steve both looked up from the broken faceplate, the Super Soldier's brow furrowing while the CEO took a deep breath as she gazed at her friend in confusion.

"Rhodey, what...?"

"Spider-Man remembered something significant," the colonel murmured, his gaze once again zeroing in on the man out of time. "It wasn't the man with wings he saw on top of that building with them." He paused, appearing to almost be uncertain of how to proceed. His voice caught a bit when he finally did.

"... It was Barnes."

* * *

The electric razor hummed quietly as he ran it quickly but carefully over the right side of his head, and he squinted a bit in the mirror as he made sure it was as even as possible to the left. It had been a little too long since he'd freshened up his new style, and he was glad that he and his two companions had found a new spot to lay low for a little while to give him this chance. Not that a run-down motel in the middle of who-knew-where was ideal by any stretch of the imagination, but it gave them a chance to just rest. Granted, he was more than familiar with life constantly on the move, but it was much too close for comfort to how his life had been before. Before, when he'd had no choice but to keep moving. Before, when blood had seemed to be permanently stained on his hands. Before, when he hadn't had a place to rest.

He switched off the razor, setting it aside before he gazed at his reflection carefully in the dusty mirror. He brushed his fingers through the light-colored hair that he had left down the center of his head, forming a mohawk. A slight smirk appeared at the corner of his lips when he remembered one of his companions offering to give him the new look when he'd first decided he needed a change to make blending into the crowd a little easier, but he hadn't trusted the other man anywhere near his hair despite his claims that he "had experience with that sort of thing". He'd only ever let one other person near his hair, and his new friend certainly wasn't it.

The hint of a cheerful look vanished as his gaze ran over his paler complexion, the dark rings under his eyes, and how bloodshot his eyes were. He appeared as exhausted as he felt, having not slept for more than maybe about a half hour at a time tops– on a good day– since the prison break. He was too... on edge, too alert of their predicament and need to be aware of their situation at all times to truly allow his guard to be dropped. His quiver and bow were never out of reach. He'd been here before, this life on the run, and it was just as draining this time as the last. But as draining as it was, it was necessary. Necessary for self-preservation, for survival, as had been drilled into him all those years before that it was just second nature now.

But oh how he just wanted to rest.

It was a luxury that couldn't be afforded.

He absently ran the water, watching with disinterest as the short hairs he'd shaved off swirled down the drain. He then ran his hands over the sides of his head, not even having something to apply to soothe the slight sting. A ghost of a smile returned to his face when he allowed himself to think about the cheerful, musical laughter of the woman he loved more than anyone else in the world when she saw him for the first time with the new look, when he remembered her playful chiding about how it was something she would have to get used to.

But the look instantly vanished again. It was something he hadn't given her time to get used to. And he wasn't sure when, or if, she'd have that chance.

One day. That was all the time he'd allowed himself to be back in her presence, in her arms. Those arms, those hands, that had slowly, diligently, single-handedly taken down every brick of the wall of his past he'd constructed around himself. It was only with her that he allowed that wall to be dismantled, which she did every time with a love and care he'd never experienced before.

One day. That was all the time he'd allowed himself to be around his three rapidly growing children. One day to build tall skyscrapers out of colorful Lego pieces. One day to marvel over a heartfelt– and quite well done– drawing to hang on the refrigerator. One day to hold close in his arms– those same arms that had caused so much death and destruction– and rock the smallest of the bunch to sleep for his afternoon nap. One day to spend with the three pieces of his heart who saw him plainly and still lovingly called him "daddy".

Before he'd met _her_ , he'd never envisioned himself being a family man. He'd always been moving, his double life had– at times– blurred so much that it had become damn near impossible to distinguish what side he was actually on, and his own tumultuous and fractured family life had kept him from wanting one of his own.

But she... she had changed his mind on everything. He had met her by chance, after he had been severely wounded by his criminal mentor at the Carson Carnival of Traveling Wonders and she, working as a nursing assistant at the time, had helped to get him back on his feet. He'd been much younger then, much more angry at the world, and hadn't really thought much of her after their brief encounter. But when another mission of his had gone south a few years later, and he once again wandered into the ER and was greeted by her scolding gaze and careful, caring hands when she saw his bruised and bloodied form, he couldn't help but admit that something about her put him at ease. He didn't find himself flinching at her touch when she reached for him to apply a stitch, to check a vital, or to wrap a fresh bandage. He didn't find himself wondering about her intentions or if there were any ulterior motives he needed to keep an eye out for. For the first time he could remember, he had been able to relax around her. Not completely, but it was a start. And that certainly was a change for him.

It was why he had been relieved when they'd taken their acquaintance a step further, and then further still when they moved in together into a small farmhouse in the country that definitely needed some renovation work done– something he had ultimately made into quite an extensive project. She had seen him at his worst, when he had done things he still regretted to this day, and had held him while he fell apart, but she loved him even still. She quieted his conflicted soul, gave him a sense of peace he'd never before experienced. She stilled him. Not only that, but she'd provided him a place to stay, a place to rest and stop moving, a place he could call home, for the first time he could recall. And that was something she'd given him that he knew he'd never be able to repay her for.

And children... children had never even been on his radar. After spending his childhood with an alcoholic father, after harboring resentment about how that behavior had not only harmed him and his older brother but also cost them the lives of both of their parents so suddenly, and after spending a few years in an orphanage, the thought of being a father terrified him to his very core. He was always moving, he had two very different lives that he had to keep up with. It was too dangerous. No, a father was something he could never afford to be.

While their first child had admittedly been unexpected, he couldn't deny that despite the near crippling fear of how this would change their lives and how he was uncertain if this was a role he could take on– and he had played many roles in his life– that he was also... curious, filled with wonder. And when he held his firstborn son in his arms for the first time, his heart was nearly broken by all the new, powerful emotions he couldn't give a name to that poured out of him. This was home, he knew. That's what this new sensation was. Family. Stability.

A father was something he had once thought he could never be. But "daddy" was something he certainly could be.

They were married not long after, and a few years later, they welcomed their second child, a baby girl. By this point, he had slowed down considerably. He didn't feel the need to keep moving anymore, there was only one place he wanted to be– at home on his farm with his wife and two children. They gave his life a purpose like nothing ever had before, they kept him grounded. His dangerous double life had faded far into the background, and he had been granted a new opportunity to use his skills for only good, though only on the agreement that his family was kept off any records of any organizations so they'd never have to be involved in his line of work. His life had somehow turned into something he could be proud of, and he had never been in a better place. The news that they had been expecting their third child had genuinely made his heart swell with love and excitement, and holding his second son in his arms for the first time had made him feel as though his life truly was complete.

But he had thrown that all away when he'd agreed to help his teammates, his other family, when they were being torn apart at the seams from the inside out. And for what? He'd been retired after the mission in Sokovia, he'd finally told himself that enough was enough and put his bow and quiver away– out of sight, out of mind– so he could focus on his wife and three children. She'd needed him... but so had his team. He had made the decision to come out of retirement– apparently, things all went to shit if he wasn't around– because he felt, he _knew_ , in his very bones that it was the right thing to do. If faced with the same choice a second time, he'd make the same one. But despite this obligation, the selfish part of him still wished he'd made a different decision. Oh how he wished he'd chosen his heart... But because of the decision he'd made, the one he still knew was right, he was moving again, moving without a place to rest.

And oh how he just wanted to rest.

One day. It was why he'd given himself only one day to rest surrounded by the people he loved more than life itself, and those who loved him in return. It was why he'd given himself only one day to rest in the only place he'd ever considered home, the one place where he could sleep through an entire night without his bow in easy reach or keeping one eye or ear open, where he could allow himself to lower his guard. He could have stayed longer, he knew. And he would have. After all, there were no records at all of his family that existed, and only a handful of people knew of their connection to him. But with those who were now hunting him, he knew it was a chance he couldn't take. He wouldn't do that to the most important people in his life. He couldn't get them dragged into this mess, not when he was a wanted criminal just for trying to help out his team.

Leaving his family right as the sun was rising, kissing his wife and children goodbye while they still slept, was one of the most difficult things he'd ever done in his life. But it had to be done. He had to do it for them, even though it crushed him to do so. And so he'd walked out the door without looking back, making sure no trace of his presence from his brief rest was left behind. She would understand. It wasn't the first time he'd stolen away like a thief in the night, sometimes leaving her wondering if he'd actually been there at all. His children would hopefully one day understand. They were young yet, but in time, he felt like they would. This life was never going to be easy, he'd known that back when he first took this path.

And now he was moving again. Moving without stopping, moving without rest. Because it was necessary. For self-preservation, for survival. And so he kept moving. Because he had to.

Once the sink was clean, he sighed as he shut off the water and ran a weary hand through his styled hair. He'd looked worse, he admitted. A hint of a smile returned to his face as that voice he loved to hear more than any other once again echoed in his ears, and he found he agreed with her. It was something she– _they_ – would have to get used to.

Then, his whole body tensed when he heard quiet footsteps quickly approaching the bathroom before a timid yet anxious knock came from the door. A brief moment passed before he allowed his muscles to relax slightly, one by one, as he forced his breathing into a calm rhythm. He likely knew who was bothering him, despite telling him not to. And while they were both part of the same team, despite how they'd taken a long trip together to get to Germany and how they'd fought on the same side while there, despite how they were both broken out of the same prison and remained on the run together, this was a man he hadn't known, or worked with, for nearly as long as the rest of the Avengers. It was a trust that still had to be built. It was why he hadn't let him touch his hair, and it was why he'd assumed that he'd know not to bother him when he had told him not to.

With a long, slow breath, he opened the door, finding himself met with the very person he'd assumed he would be met with. Judging by the slightly nervous look on the other man's face, it was clear he was very well aware that he was overstepping the boundaries set in place. Hiding a satisfied smirk, he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.

"What?" he asked, a little shortly.

The dark-haired man smiled broadly; he couldn't look any more anxious. "So, I know you said not to, y'know, bother you unless it was life or death– hey, you finished your hair, good job, man, it looks good on you. I still could have done it for ya if you wanted me to, I've done it plenty of–!"

He cleared his throat quietly, waiting for his companion to get to the point of why he'd knocked on the door to bother him in the first place instead of rambling on about things of little importance. It had better be a damn good reason.

Seeming to get the point, the other man immediately backpedaled. "Right, yeah. Sorry." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I know you said not to bother you unless it was an emergency. And I was just sitting here, trying to find a game on TV, or something... we've got crappy service here, by the way, not many channel options... and, uh... well... you'll probably wanna come see this, man..."

Raising an eyebrow, the mohawked man slowly uncrossed his arms and straightened up from the doorway before following him into the motel's living room. Something in his tone had made him uneasy. He spared a quick glance at their third companion, the young teenage girl– one he had found himself taking responsibility for since the disaster in Sokovia had left her with no family at all– who had her long, dyed blonde hair tied behind her head in a loose ponytail as she lightly dozed on one of the two beds, before he turned his attention to what the ex-con had disturbed him for. It startled him to see his normally jovial new friend subdued and on the verge of grim, and he steeled himself as he turned his attention to the small television on the floor in front of him. It wasn't getting good reception, and the sound came in and out, but he could tell they were watching a live newscast. And through the static, he could just make out the headline.

 _Stark Presumed Dead; Search On For Missing Billionaire._

He didn't move, he hardly breathed, for a long moment, even though he could feel the eyes of his companion boring into him. He was too focused on trying to sort through the thoughts racing through his head.

 _What had happened...? Tony... missing? Presumed_ dead _? What the hell..._

Finally, he sighed, reaching for a small, disposable flip phone he kept in the back pocket of his jeans.

"I'll be right back. I've got a phone call to make."

* * *

If he had the chance when this was all over to look back at this moment in time, Tony realized that his reaction to seeing Captain Steve Rogers standing with him in his small prison and glowering down at him probably _wasn't_ the appropriate one given the situation he currently found himself in.

He laughed.

A full, hearty laugh– one he had to admit _hurt_ – shook Tony's bruised and beaten frame, but he found that he couldn't stop. Not even as Bakaar, Raza, Arsen, and now this new arrival simply watched him with no reaction. He knew he was probably going to get some sort of lashing for this, but still, the laugh continued to escape from deep within him. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised that since they had someone cosplaying as Bucky that a Steve knock-off would be soon to follow, but actually seeing it had still come as a bit unexpected to him nonetheless.

But he also couldn't deny that for a moment– for just the _briefest of moments_ – he'd believed that this obviously fake Captain America was the man he'd considered a friend, even though now he could see the man's facial structure was all wrong. He blamed the gas. He blamed the events after the fallout over the Accords, after seeing the video Zemo had shown them of his parents' murder, that still haunted him. And laughing, to him, was the best way to cover the unease at the fact they knew this would be a way to get under his skin that had decided to settle in his stomach.

"Are you quite finished?" the Steve rip-off demanded shortly.

When the billionaire showed no sign of stopping, Arsen grumbled under his breath before taking a couple steps forward. "I'll make him stop, Bao..."

However, he was stopped by Bao's gloved hand on his arm along with a brief shake of his head.

Finally, Tony's laughter ended with a short round of coughing, and he took a deep breath as he once again looked up at his captors. "Seriously?" he asked, clearing his raw throat. "You're kidding me, right? I mean... I get why you got Tweedledee and Tweedledum here." He paused, nodding at the two men who were supposed to be Bakaar and Raza. "And let me guess, you're gonna waterboard me or something at some point, yeah? Beat me senseless? Make me relive the nightmares from that cave? Please, I've been through this before, boys. But I've gotta admit, no one's been quite as original as you with the costume ideas for Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. At least you've got the complete set. You can't have one without the other. Though I'm saying it now. It's gonna take a lot more than a cheap Capsicle knock-off to make me crack. Not gonna happen."

Bao smirked in response, exchanging a glance with Arsen before turning back to their captive. "Defiance. I expected nothing less out of you, Mr. Stark," he muttered. "After all, your father had it, too."

The words caused Tony to stiffen. He met Bao's gaze steadily, and while his stomach tightened considerably, he made sure to keep his face impassive. He even managed a small smirk in return. "So, what, you're going to bring my dad into this whole thing now?" he wondered. " _Real_ original. Not necessarily a secret that we had our differences. If you're gonna try to get to me by making up things about my dad or dragging his name through the mud, sorry, but you're gonna have to try harder."

Arsen grinned, and the billionaire couldn't deny that his unease grew at the look. "You need proof that your father was under the care of the good doctor before yourself? Very well, then, Mr. Stark. By the records in his system, Howard Stark suffered from a severe bout of claustrophobia from a wartime incident. He showed signs of emotional distance, even from his own family. Need I go on?"

Tony's smirk faltered as he struggled to not show his captors any of the emotions raging inside him, fighting and clawing to escape, while attempting to process all of the panicked thoughts racing through his mind.

 _True... it was true... all true..._ The emotional distance, most of the time, making his father seem just out of reach... He'd heard the story of the incident during the second World War, the plane crash, that had caused the older Stark's near crippling claustrophobia from the man himself...

But he couldn't tell them that. He couldn't let his captors know the truth.

 _Give them nothing._

Tony forced the confident look to broaden ever so slightly. "I think most people know how my father was," he told them, glad his voice was as steady as it was. "And a lot of people have claustrophobia, so that's just a smart guess–!"

"You drew him a picture when you were young, maybe five or six," Bao cut in, his light eyes gleaming. "A picture of him with Captain America and one Agent Peggy Carter. You said he was your hero, so you drew him with America's hero."

"Last I checked, a lot of kids look up to their dads at that age," the billionaire said stiffly. He remembered that drawing of Steve, his father, and his godmother very clearly. He'd been so proud of it. These details about his father, about _him_ , were starting to chip away at him, bit by bit. But he refused to show it. He couldn't give these guys _anything_ they could use against him. "Not abnormal. So if that's all you got..."

"He kept that drawing, you know." Bao's eyes gleamed when his captive's gaze noticeably faltered. It was the look of a predator who knew his prey was trapped with no way out. "In the top drawer of his desk, beneath where he kept some of his important Stark Industries reports."

This Tony had no quip for. This was a point he could not counter, could not brush off. Because it was true. A truth he hadn't known until after the night of his parents' deaths, after he had buried them.

He'd returned to his childhood home after the funeral with a girl he'd been planning to pass the time and distract himself with later on, though she'd remained behind in the car as he wandered through the empty, spacious rooms and hallways by himself since their butler Edwin Jarvis, Peggy, and his father's long-time friend and business partner Obadiah Stane had stayed behind at the cemetery with the other mourners while he just hadn't been able to bear to stay in the massive group any longer. He just needed some peace, some quiet, some time alone with his thoughts. He'd reluctantly entered Howard's office, a space that had at one time been almost considered sacred– a space he shouldn't enter– to his young mind, and even then, it'd been a place he'd felt as though he shouldn't have been. But he'd been there, because much of what that space consisted of would soon be his. Even though he wasn't the most thrilled at the idea of taking over Howard's legacy.

He hadn't been able to sit at the desk his father could often be found at, that had felt off-limits. But he had rifled through a couple of the drawers, just to get some sort of better idea of what sort of weight would now inevitably be dumped on his shoulders. With how sudden the death of the titan had been, and how fresh the impact of it had been, the responsibilities of running Stark Industries had seemed daunting, overwhelming, at the very least. It had been something he hadn't even been able to bring himself to think about, not at that point. At that moment in time, he'd wanted no part of any of it.

And while he'd been rifling through the drawers in order to see what his life would become, he'd been stopped short when he'd come across the very drawing his fake Bucky captor had described, right in the spot the fake Steve had said Howard had kept it.

He'd immediately left the office. He'd immediately left the house. He'd immediately left the burden of Stark Industries behind him.

There was only one way his captors could know about that drawing.

Almost acting on its own accord, Tony's body lurched forward, straight for the Bucky and Steve look-alikes, but his arms were caught from behind by the fake Bakaar and Raza, who wrenched him backward roughly. He clenched his teeth, refusing to vocalize the pain, as he met Arsen's confident gaze.

"What... what did you do to him?" he hissed.

Arsen chuckled while Bao smirked. "You know how it goes, Mr. Stark," he replied. "Doctors are bound by physician-patient privilege."

However, Tony was not in the mood for the other man's flippant remarks. He spit directly in Arsen's paler face.

A brief moment passed before the dark-haired man kneed the billionaire forcefully in the stomach, robbing him of breath, before his fist landed solidly with his jaw. Bakaar and Raza released their captive, causing Tony to slump to the floor with his arms wrapped around his midsection, coughing forcefully as air struggled to make its way back into his lungs. Arsen then reached forward, his metallic fingers wrapping in Tony's hair before jerking his head up roughly, forcing him to meet his gaze.

"Your father lasted for a respectable time before the doctor was able to make the progress he wanted to with him," the fake Winter Soldier murmured, smirking when Tony's pained hazel eyes finally managed to meet his own. "The doctor will come to visit you soon. And then, Mr. Stark, we shall see how long you will last."

Arsen then shoved his captive's head back down to the ground before he allowed Bao to pull him back, and all four men left the small, basement room, leaving Tony gasping for breath on the hard floor.

* * *

By the time lunch rolled around, Peter was thoroughly miserable. Everything was still too bright, too loud, to his senses that seemed to be dialed to even beyond eleven, especially in the bustling cafeteria. Even worse, the conversation he'd had with Happy, which hadn't gone the way he'd wanted at all, was still running through his mind. His fist clenched, though no matter how many times he went over it, the outcome remained the same.

 _"Happy... it... it wasn't the guy with wings who attacked us... It was the guy... the guy with the metal arm... He... he's the one who hurt Mr. Stark!"_

"The man with the... You mean Barnes? The Winter Soldier? _That_ guy with the metal arm?" _The disbelief in Happy's tone was clear._

 _"I... I don't know," Peter muttered. "I saw him in Germany... He was helping Captain America. But... but why? Who is he to Mr. Stark...?"_

 _The head of security let out a long, drawn-out sigh._ "That's not a matter you need to concern yourself with right now, kid," _he said. Though his voice was calmer, there was still an undeniable_ fear _in it. In unnerved him._

 _"Why?" Peter pressed. "Did... did something happen...?"_

"Kid, I _said_ it's nothing you need to concern yourself with right now." _The head of security's voice was sharper than he expected, and the teen recoiled a bit. But then, he sighed again._ "Look, I know you're just worried about Tony, as we all are, but–!"

 _"Happy, please." Peter's confidence was starting to come back. "Look... I fought him briefly in Germany. He didn't hurt me, even when he had the chance to. I_ know _I saw him up on that rooftop, but he seemed... I don't know, different somehow... It's hard to think that it was the same person. But who is this guy... Barnes? Winter Soldier? Tony seemed... afraid of him. Is he a friend of Capta–!"_

"Peter!" _The intensity in Happy's voice caused the web-slinger to stop short._ "Listen to me. I know you just want to help with this. But look, if this _is_ who you're describing, you're gonna have to sit this one out, kid."

 _"_ What _?!" The head of security's words were like a punch in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. "Happy, no! You don't understand, I_ have _to help find Mr. Stark. You can't make me sit this one out when he needs me!"_

"I can, and I will." _There was no emotion in Happy's voice now, nothing for him to gauge._ "Look, kid, I'm not doubting what you can do, but this is a bit out of your league. If this is the person you're saying it is, let us handle it. We've got Rhodey, we'll call in Vision..."

 _"But, Happy... Happy, I can help, I–!"_

"I said _no_ , kid." _Happy let out another long breath. He sounded stressed, almost flustered._ "Trust me. Tony wouldn't want you getting anywhere near this guy. He isn't something to take lightly. Just... just take a step back for a minute, okay? Let us figure out what we're dealing with here. Rhodey and I are about to follow your Davis lead, too, to see if we can find out anymore about your guy with wings. All right? Just take a step back. Now, you get back to class, and I'll give Rhodey a call about this."

 _"But, Happy..."_

 _But the head of security had already ended the call._

Peter took a deep breath, simply staring at the ham and cheese sandwich and chips he'd brought to school with him. He'd stayed out of his math class that morning for just long enough to give the impression that he'd actually gone to speak with the counselor– there was no way he actually could since he didn't need to, and plus he'd never hear the end of it– and instead spent that time stewing over Happy's words and making plans of how to move forward from there.

Why did Happy, and even Tony, continue to treat him like a kid? Like he wasn't a valuable member of this team? He'd done plenty with helping the little guy, and he knew he was ready for more, especially since someone he looked up to and cared about was in danger when he could have helped him in some way. He could help now with what he was able to do, he knew he could. Especially now that he had a second chance with his suit. He knew he could help with the search for the billionaire, even if it was this Barnes guy who was responsible. He _knew_ he could. He'd been there, after all. Who better to help figure out what happened to Tony than him?

The teen knew he'd just have to show them what he could do. So they'd take him more seriously as part of this team. That he could be of real use in finding the missing billionaire.

And to do that, he'd start with tracking down the guy with wings. He almost had him before, on the ferry before the FBI showed up, after all, and Karen had his face in her system. Even if he didn't have a criminal record, like she'd said, he had to exist in some system somewhere, right? Something work related, maybe? Perhaps through the state? Something...

And while he was doing that, he'd still try to help find Tony, in his own way. Happy had told him that he could come to the Tower whenever he needed or wanted to, and he was certainly going to take advantage of that. Make sure he was in on the conversations on how the search for his mentor was going. And he was going to do some research of his own on this Winter Soldier.

Though even worse, he was tired of hearing all of his classmates discuss whether Spider-Man, who had recently been a hero for rescuing the decathlon team from certain death in Washington, D.C., was a good or bad guy in the wake of all the news reports about what had possibly happened to Tony Stark.

Deciding that the cafeteria was just too loud, too distracting, the web-slinger quickly picked up his things and stuffed them in his backpack before heading quickly through the crowd toward the door. He passed by Ned and Michelle Jones, a girl who really seemed to have no friends but hung around the two of them quite a bit and was also part of the decathlon team, without as much as a second glance, despite his best friend's protests of, "Peter! We were supposed to talk about... things! Building the Death Star! Remember?"

Peter kept going. He really didn't feel like recounting what had happened on that rooftop, despite promising Ned he would, and so he pushed open the door of the cafeteria and stepped out without a word. He took a deep breath of relief and closed his eyes, as the hallway was already an improvement from how loud and bright the cafeteria had been.

Though now that he was out, his urge to just leave the school altogether was even greater. What was he even doing here, anyway? Tony was in trouble. Who knew what was happening to him, or where he was? Despite how much trouble he'd get in, despite how May or Happy or Pepper or anyone else would likely kill him, he knew he'd be doing much more good outside of these walls. He had his suit on him. He'd just need to find the perfect opening, and...

"Parker!"

Startled, the fifteen-year-old's eyes snapped open as his head whipped to the right, and he found himself face to face with Principal Morita. Beside the dark-haired man was an older man with some light gray hair left on his balding head who was leaning heavily on a cane for support. It was a man he didn't recognize.

But his sense was trying to alert him of something...

"What are you doing, Peter?" Morita asked. There wasn't any judgment in his tone, rather curiosity.

Peter tore his gaze away from the new man to his principal. "I was, uh..." He paused, thinking quickly. "I, um, I have a bit of a headache, and it was just really loud in there... Plus I was thinking of getting a little more research done in the library... for, for a project due at the end of the week..."

Morita arched an eyebrow, though he didn't push any further. The older man beside him regarded Peter curiously at hearing his name. "Well, straight there, then," the former finally said. "Go on, now."

"Thanks... thanks, Mr. Morita." Peter offered him a small smile before meeting the light gaze of the older man beside him again. It unsettled him slightly to see that those eyes were boring right back into him, and he quickly turned and made his way down the hall that would bring him to the library. He cursed his luck. It wasn't as good as being able to get out of the school, but at least he could look more into who this Barnes guy was in the meantime.

When he rounded the corner, he paused when he saw a tall, black-haired girl was finishing straightening out a brightly colored poster for the homecoming dance coming up that weekend. His throat went dry, and his stomach did a little flip. The girl took a couple steps back to get a better look at her work before she turned in his direction when she spotted him out of the corner of her eye.

"Oh, hey, Peter."

"H-hey..." He paused, clearing his throat. "Hey, Liz."

Liz Allan, the senior girl he'd pretty much always had a crush on, smiled before she turned back to the poster she'd just hung up on the wall. "What do you think? Is it straight?" she wondered.

"Uh..." Peter took a few steps closer to get a better look for himself. "Yeah, I think it looks nice, Liz. Really great." He then turned to her. "I thought you had a class now...?"

"I do, but I've gotta take care of this homecoming stuff," Liz told him. "I'm looking forward to when it's all over, trust me. It's a lot of work."

"Y-yeah, I bet..."

Liz's brow furrowed. "Is everything okay, Peter?" she asked, looking him over curiously. "You've just seemed... off lately."

Peter blinked a couple times as his thoughts seemed to stumble over each other. "Uh... yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," he told her. "Really. Just, uh, under a lot of stress..."

Her features softened. "It's what happened to Tony Stark, isn't it?" she asked quietly. "I know you were interning for him... You must have gotten to know him pretty well. Must be hard to hear these news reports about that awful incident..."

The web-slinger couldn't deny it, no matter how much he wanted to. "Yeah, I have gotten to know him pretty well," he admitted. "And honestly, I'm freaked out about what could have possibly happened to him. But despite what the news is saying, it wasn't Spider-Man..."

His sentence trailed off when Liz smiled and nodded. "I know."

Peter stared at her for a moment. "You... you do?" It was then he remembered that she had some sort of crush on Spider-Man, and while he'd hoped that she'd be one of the people who wouldn't just listen to the reports, hearing it from her was another thing altogether. Oh, how he wished he could tell her the truth... "You... you do...?"

Liz nodded again. "After he saved us from that elevator in the Washington Monument, I don't see why he'd attack a person who's on the same side he is," she said.

Despite how happy her words made him, the web-slinger's gaze faltered. "You know, I was really worried about you guys up there," he replied. "I'm really glad Spider-Man got there in time." He paused. "And, you know, I'm _really_ sorry about missing the decathlon, I..."

"It's all right." Seeing the confusion on Peter's face, Liz continued. "Before last week, the decathlon was... everything. It was our future. Nothing more important than that." She smiled slightly. "But then, I almost died in that elevator. And... everything changed. Suddenly that decathlon, or winning it, wasn't so important anymore. You know?"

A flicker of memory of the explosion on top of that building flashed through his mind before his thoughts wandered to Pepper and how sad and full of _regret_ she was that she hadn't let Tony know exactly how she felt before this disaster happened. Oh, yes, he knew _exactly_ what Liz was talking about when she said that near-death experiences changed one's perspective. He knew that all too well, especially since he knew that what was coming up for him, what he was about to get involved in, was the most dangerous thing he'd ever done as the web-slinger.

He'd hesitated too long. It was now or never.

"Liz... there's something I've been meaning to tell you," Peter muttered. "I, uh... I..."

"Like me. Yeah, I know that, too."

Peter quickly looked up to meet her gaze, startled. Was he really that obvious? "You... knew that...?"

Liz chuckled. "You're really bad at keeping secrets," she told him.

Despite himself, Peter gave her a small smile. She had _no_ idea how good at it he actually was. Though that really didn't mean anything, considering he'd been considering spilling his biggest secret to her only a couple seconds before. "Yeah, well... maybe some of them I am." When she smiled in return, he suddenly felt emboldened. After all, it wasn't like she was making fun of or rejecting him for liking her, despite the fact that she was a senior while he was just a sophomore. "So, I'm probably going to be in detention for, like, the rest of my life for skipping the decathlon among other things, and I've got a lot going on with that internship still, but, uh... maybe you and I could, like, I don't know... hang out sometime?"

"I don't have a date for homecoming yet," Liz informed him, gesturing to the decorations she'd been working on before he'd arrived. "I've been so busy preparing for it that I haven't really gotten to that part yet, so..."

Peter looked at her for a moment, trying to make sure he was understanding her correctly. "M-me...?" he wondered, his voice cracking slightly. "You'd... you'd want to go... with me...?"

Liz's smile broadened. "As I've told you before, you're, like, the smartest guy I've ever met," she said. "And you seem like you could use a good time. Get your mind off things..."

The web-slinger couldn't believe it. Hadn't he always wanted something like this to happen ever since he started crushing on her? And now she was basically telling him that she'd go to the homecoming dance with him.

But as much as he wanted to jump at this chance and say yes, there was a big part of him that was hesitating. _I have to find Mr. Stark_.

"That... that sounds great," he finally said. "But, I, uh, I..." When Liz's cheerful smile faltered, he paused. There was a sense in the back of his mind that this was the right way to go, though he wasn't quite sure why. Other than he really wanted to go to this dance with Liz. If he listened hard enough, he could even _almost_ hear Tony's voice echoing in his ears, saying, "Go for it, kid! Don't do anything that I wouldn't do. Or would do."

A small smile appeared on Peter's face. "You know what? Yeah, that sounds great," he told her. "Let's do it."

Liz's smile returned. "Great! See you Friday, Peter."

"See you Friday," Peter agreed before he continued on his way toward the library. His smile broadened as he went as he allowed the excitement to settle in. He was _actually_ going to _homecoming_ with _Liz Allan_. It was almost too good to be true. And up until then, he'd work as hard as he could on any leads on the guy with wings and on what could have happened to Tony, and he'd work just as hard after the dance was over if nothing turned up by then.

But then, he felt a slight pull, a feeling like he was being watched, in the back of his mind, and the web-slinger stopped, quickly turning to look after his shoulder. But it was only Liz, who was busy working on more of the homecoming dance decorations. The opposite end of the hall was empty.

Though he was sure he had felt _something_. Almost a warning. A little uneasy, Peter continued on his way, trying to shrug the feeling off.

After all, he had a date.

 **Author's Note** : So, there we have it! Tony's captivity may be quite a bit deeper than he ever imagined... And Peter's still going to homecoming with Liz. But now with this "Bucky" surfacing, and with a couple more people seemingly getting pulled into the mix, how will the hunt for Tony go? We'll find out! Oh! Howard Stark's claustrophobia came from an episode in season one of _Agent Carter_. Also, a million thank yous to **CoffeeRanger** for looking over a couple of these sections for me, as well as for planning out some of the ideas here with me! As always, feedback is appreciated. I'll see you guys next time! :-)


	12. Chapter 12- The Psychiatrist

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Hey, guys, thanks for hanging in there with me! Thank you for all the reviews, follows, and favorites, they mean a lot to me and keep me going! :-) I guess this could be considered our Christmas edition, I tried to make it a little festive for the holiday, lol. Some important things to look for ahead, so keep an eye out! With that said, I won't keep you any longer, and I hope you enjoy! :-)

 _Chapter 12– The Psychiatrist_

 _"... it was Barnes."_

The colonel's words replayed over and over in Steve's head as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his black jacket and made his way down the packed sidewalk, making sure to avoid eye contact with anyone as he snuck a look at the crumbling, burning building across the street from him from under the brim of his New York Yankees baseball cap. Firefighters were still hard at work trying to contain the blaze, though he had to admit that it didn't appear much more encouraging than it had the night before. It would take quite some time yet to get everything under control and contained, and any sort of evidence they could have gathered, outside of what Sam could have caught on Redwing's camera, was sure to be lost by now.

This was a dead end.

 _"... it was Barnes."_

The Captain cursed under his breath as Rhodey's voice once again echoed in his ears, and he tore his eyes away from the wreckage as sirens continued to wail around him. He'd been stunned, almost numb, to hear those three words only a couple short hours before. Spider-Man had seen _Bucky_ on top of that building with him and Tony before it had exploded? It was impossible, he knew it was, and he'd told them as such. After all, his best friend, his brother, was still in the refuge of the hidden, reclusive kingdom of Wakanda under the watchful, protective eye of its king, T'Challa. At least he was safe there. That's what was most important.

And if he'd somehow left that sanctuary, he was certain their new ally would have informed him. And even if Bucky had followed them to the States in that case, there was _no_ way he would have been responsible for such destruction. He refused to believe it, he couldn't afford to believe it. The Winter Soldier had told him himself that he didn't do that sort of thing anymore, and as far as Steve knew, there was no one around who knew the words to wake up that sleeping assassin within the other man again.

For a moment, he wondered if Rhodey would have believed him if Natasha and Sam hadn't corroborated his statement, if he'd instead think he was just choosing sides against Tony once again, but he stopped that train of thought before it could really get started. They were on the same side with the same objective going forward– to find the missing billionaire. And they couldn't do that if they were at odds with each other.

A quiet though pained gasp caused him to pause, and Steve turned around to see that Pepper, who had been right with him, had stopped, her light eyes wide and her mouth slowly dropping open as she stared at the inferno across from them with her hand hovering over her chest. His gaze faltered.

The CEO had approached him as he was preparing to leave for the harbor, expressing how she'd wanted to go along with him. At first, he'd gently insisted that it probably wouldn't be the best idea, but she continued to push the matter, arguing that she'd go crazy if left to her own devices without doing anything to help since Natasha and Rhodey had left to meet up with Happy in Queens to talk with Aaron Davis, and Sam was burrowed away somewhere in the Tower to go over the Redwing footage. The Super Soldier had finally relented, appreciating the lift to the area that she'd given them, but it was how her face was slowly getting paler now as she stared in fear at the last place Tony had been seen alive that reminded him exactly why he'd suggested she stay behind.

"Pepper..."

However, she seemed not to hear him, and Steve let out a quiet sigh as he took a couple steps closer to her and set a light hand on her arm. Pepper jumped slightly, casting her panicked gaze to him as she reached up with her other hand and grasped his, almost on instinct.

"No one... no one could have survived that..." she whispered, searching his handsome bearded features for answers she knew she couldn't find there before turning back to the collapsing building. She'd seen the news footage of this disaster plenty, but seeing it in person... that was an entirely different matter. "Oh, God... Steve, if Tony... if he was up there when..."

"We don't know if that was the case," Steve gently reminded her. "Until we find out otherwise, we have to operate under the assumption that Tony is alive."

Pepper shook her head slightly as she continued to stare at the ruins. "H-how... how could he have...? His suit..."

Steve took a deep breath. "Spider-Man escaped, it's possible that Tony was able to do the same," he said. "And if someone has taken him, they will likely demand some sort of ransom for his safe return. If not, whoever was behind this is bound to leave some sort of trace of themselves behind. We'll find that. You began a scan of your records for those salvage workers that worked on the Tower after the Chitauri invaded. That's a start. We'll catch this guy. We'll find Tony."

A moment passed before Pepper tightened her hold a little on Steve's fingers. "You're... you're absolutely certain that it... it wasn't...?" she hesitantly started to ask, but she couldn't bring herself to finish the question.

The Super Soldier met her gaze as he squeezed her hand in return, seeming to hear the words she couldn't say. "I swear to you, Pepper, if it was in any way possible that Bucky _was_ behind this, I would tell you," he assured her. "I wouldn't lie to you about that."

Pepper gazed at his face carefully, seeing nothing but silent conviction. Even though the man in question was his best friend. Though there also seemed to be a little bit of guilt underneath that, guilt about what had happened when he'd kept a very important truth from Tony.

She believed him.

"O-okay..." Pepper released Steve's hand then, taking a deep breath before turning back to where the firefighters were working anxiously to get the blaze under control. Her brow furrowed.

"I'm going to get a closer look," she said.

Steve frowned. "I don't know if that's a good idea..." he began.

But the CEO was already starting to make her way across the blocked-off street toward the even bigger crowd that was still gathered at the barricade to get the latest scoop on what had happened with Spider-Man and the missing billionaire. Sighing, the Captain followed after her.

Pepper was almost in a daze as she drew closer, the smell of the heavy smoke hanging over her almost suffocating. Though everyone around her was speaking loudly– either relaying orders or conducting news broadcasts and interviews or protesting in the defense of either Tony or Peter– all she could hear was the deafening crackling of the flames high above her. All she could see was the blinding light they cast.

Fire. Fire and smoke. That's all that seemed to exist as the flames and the haze and the heat consumed her senses.

 _Was this how Tony had felt? Were these the last things he saw before...?_

No, she couldn't bring herself to think about that. Tony was alive, he had to be. She wasn't sure how she knew that, she just did. Tony was alive.

Starting to feel a little claustrophobic around all the people and needing to get away from the intense heat and dense smoke, she began to move away from the crowd, making her way toward a spot a bit away from the building where a bunch of crates were stacked in the direction of the Staten Island ferry port. Her gaze passed over the sparkling water, and she couldn't help but smile to herself as a memory from a couple years before struggled its way to the surface of her racing thoughts. It had been shortly before Christmas, and all the Avengers had been assembled at the Tower to celebrate. Naturally, Tony had wanted to sneak away with her for a bit of time just for themselves since it was just so loud with everyone together, so he'd thought bringing her out into the city to enjoy the lights and decorations would be a good time. LIttle had she known he'd meant bringing her out with the Iron Man suit, and she hadn't been thrilled about that one bit.

Not that she didn't trust him, but flying at such a high speed without any sort of safety measures other than his sturdy, iron arms around her– which had always been a safe place for her– was something she hadn't been comfortable with in the least.

But it had been worth it, as he had flown with her over this very harbor, low over the water, to Staten Island, where they could get a good look at the broad expanse of New York City's bright lights when it was lit up even more than usual from a place of peace and quiet all their own. It had been chilly, but the view and sharing a kiss in the light snowfall with the one person who meant the most to her had been special indeed. Especially since they were greeted with two mugs of steaming, sweet hot chocolate with whipped cream, hot fudge, and mini marshmallows from Bruce when they'd returned, their cheeks flushed from the cold.

Steve slowly approached the CEO, seeing that her gaze was faraway and a thin line of tears were in her eyes, likely caused by wherever her thoughts had taken her. He sighed, not wanting to disturb her and not knowing how to carefully bring her out of her reverie. The quiet sound, however, seemed to be enough, since Pepper startled slightly and turned to look at him, offering a ghost of a smile as she blinked furiously to get rid of the tears.

"This, uh... this is where Happy found Spider-Man..." she began, attempting to inject strength into her voice but not quite being able to do it.

But she stopped when the Captain set a light hand on her shoulder. "Have you eaten anything recently?" he asked quietly. Her complexion was a bit too pale, and he couldn't help but notice that she was wavering a bit on her feet.

The question shocked her, forced her panicked mind to slow down just enough to focus on it since she hadn't been expecting it. Had she? Not that she could recall... Not since she and Tony had gone out to eat the morning before, which felt like so long ago now. "Um... no, not really..."

Steve gave her a gentle smile. "I think that would be a good idea, don't you?" he wondered. He glanced around them, hoping that maybe they could find a food truck or something similar within walking distance since going to a place where there were a lot of people wouldn't be the best idea. He couldn't take a chance and be recognized.

Pepper studied his face carefully, recognizing the look in his eye as well as the underlying message in his words. Her heart faltered as more tears threatened to rise to her eyes.

They weren't going to find anything here. Nothing that could lead them to Tony.

And while she appreciated him thinking of her, she just wasn't hungry and didn't think she could hold anything substantial down since her stomach was just in knots. But, she realized, he was right. If she wanted to actively pursue the chase to find the missing billionaire, she'd have to get some strength in her. And so she couldn't deny that eating _something_ would be a good idea.

"Yeah, I do," she finally agreed, though her heart wasn't in it. "Um, I know this little hole in the wall place not too far from here. We could stop there, if you wanted. Not too many people go there. Or, if not, I can just pick up something on our way back..."

Steve's smile broadened a little. "I think that sounds nice," he told her.

Pepper attempted to return the look. She knew what was going on, as she'd overheard Rhodey and Happy talking the night before about how either one of them– and now one of the rogue Avengers since they were added into the mix– were going to stick with Peter almost at all times to make sure that whoever had attacked them didn't get another chance to go after the web-slinger. Though they'd also mentioned her being kept an eye on at all times, just in case this ambush had been more personal to Tony. Steve joining her for a light lunch, while a pleasant gesture on his part and likely just as genuine, also served this purpose.

Sighing, she glanced over the Super Soldier's shoulder at the burning, collapsing building, and her stomach dropped yet again. She'd wanted to see the site for herself, and now she had. It was just as awful as she'd imagined it to be. But any hope she'd had of finding something useful in their search for Tony had also been taken from her, and she knew there was no reason for them to linger any longer than necessary.

"All right, then," she said, trying to keep her voice as light as she could. "Let's get going."

Steve nodded in agreement, and the pair began to make their way back toward where she'd parked the car a few blocks away. As they got closer to the large crowd gathered in front of the building, he caught sight of a reporter with strawberry blonde hair– very similar in shade to Pepper's, he noted– with a notepad standing beside a bald, higher ranking police officer he remembered seeing the night before as she seemed to take notes of what he was telling her. The Captain offered a quick smile and nod to them when they both looked in their direction, making sure to lower the brim of his baseball cap a little lower over his face before they could get a better look as he continued after the CEO.

However, Steve never noticed the knowing looks that passed over both the reporter's and the officer's faces, the gleam of a new idea in her eyes, and the smirk on his face as they watched the Super Soldier and Pepper cross the street.

"Looks like Captain Rogers has resurfaced," the reporter almost purred as she looked at the scribbling on the page of her notepad. "And since he's poking around here, he's probably looking for any clues to the whereabouts of Stark. This could be fun."

"That it could," the officer agreed with a thoughtful nod. "Despite all that's happened between them, he just couldn't stay away. That man is too noble for his own good." He then reached into his back pocket to retrieve his cell phone. "This game just got more interesting with another player. I think it's time we contact the Doctor."

* * *

The drive to the hole in the wall place truly didn't take very long and was overall silent, except for Pepper grumbling under her breath about a notoriously mean meter maid who had almost given them a ticket. But soon, she and Steve were seated at a table in the darkened corner of the small café, both poring over the menus their waitress had given them. The lingering silence between them, broken only by the low murmuring of conversations of other people around them and the classic rock music playing through the overhead speakers, wasn't necessarily uncomfortable, but more brought on by the shared knowledge that this was the most amount of time they'd ever spent in the other's company on their own along with the uncertainty of how to proceed with small talk. Besides, what sort of small talk was appropriate given the current situation?

Pepper finally closed her menu and set it aside, still not entirely sure what exactly she could stomach but still knowing she had to try to get something down. Steve glanced at her curiously.

"Find something good?" he wondered.

The CEO gave him a small smile. "I think so," she said. "We'll see."

Steve nodded once as he set his own menu on top of hers. "Yeah, I think I did, too," he muttered.

Silence fell between them once more, and the Captain took a deep breath as he folded his hands on the table in front of him and debated about what to say while Pepper simply gazed at happy couples chatting away at other tables, at coworkers going over notes for an upcoming meeting, at aspiring writers musing over their screenplays. But they were spared for another moment when their waitress came back with a couple glasses of ice water to get them started and asked, with a perkiness neither one of her patrons could match, what they would like to order.

"I'll just take that lunch deal, the cup of french onion soup and half a BLT sandwich," Pepper told her.

"And I'll have the pulled pork sandwich with fries," Steve added.

"Great! Will that be together or separate?"

Pepper and Steve glanced at each other. "Separate," they both muttered at the same time.

"Awesome, that'll be up for you guys shortly!"

The Super Soldier chuckled as the petite, curly-haired woman with pretty features walked away, humming quietly to herself. He then turned back to the CEO, noticing she was wringing her hands a bit nervously. His gaze faltered before a slight smile pulled at the corner of his lips. "That's a pretty necklace you're wearing, Pepper," he said. "It's unique."

A bit startled, Pepper glanced down at the necklace he was referring to– a heart-shaped red jewel encased in small diamonds with a hanging diamond pendant. In the chain were small, irregular pieces of silver. She instinctively reached up and lightly grasped it in her fingers.

"I haven't worn it in... a while," she explained quietly, her tone distant. "Tony gave it to me a few years ago. After he finally decided to have the surgery to remove the shrapnel and Arc reactor from his chest."

It was then Steve understood. His brow furrowed. "Those silver pieces..."

Pepper nodded once, letting out a quiet laugh as a thin line of tears rose to her eyes despite her best efforts to restrain them. "It's a reminder," she replied in a voice just above a whisper. "But also something close to his heart, all the same."

Silence descended once more between them. Then, a small smile appeared on Steve's face. "You know, when Tony told me that you two were taking a break, I thought he was going to tell me that you were pregnant," he told her.

Pepper nearly choked on the ice water she was sipping. "Pregnant?" she managed to ask after coughing a couple times. But then, she chuckled, a smile spreading across her face. "No, no, I don't think... no. You know Tony. He really doesn't consider himself father material."

The Captain took a sip of his own water before shrugging slightly. "Yeah, well... Howard once thought the same thing." His gaze faltered. "I'm glad you're back with him, Pepper. He could use a friend like you, after everything."

The CEO gazed at him carefully, her hand moving its way back to the heart necklace without her fully realizing it. "It wasn't just Tony who lost someone before all this happened between you two," she murmured, hesitating slightly. "You did, too."

Steve stiffened. _Peggy_. "How did you...?" he began.

Pepper smiled sadly. "I'm really sorry for your loss," she continued quietly. "Peggy Carter was a part of Tony's life, too. I guess he never told you. She was Tony's godmother, his Aunt Peggy."

The Captain took a moment to take in this information. The billionaire had never mentioned her in all the time he'd known him. "I loved Peggy," he finally admitted. "She was my best girl. But we missed our chance, because of my decision. I know that she and Howard were close, too. After I went into the ice, I just assumed they'd..." He broke off with a chuckle. "I'm glad to see that they were able to go on and start something like S.H.I.E.L.D. together. When it was how it was supposed to be, at least. It shouldn't surprise me that Tony loved her, too."

"He did," Pepper assured him. "She was a good woman, Steve."

"Yes," Steve agreed. "Certainly a better person than I've turned out to be." He dropped his head slightly, his hand tightening around his water glass and nearly breaking it. He quickly pulled his hand away. "I should have just told Tony from the start about what happened that night..."

"Tony kept that phone you gave him for a reason, you know," the CEO muttered. "He wasn't prepared to give up on you."

Steve attempted a small smile at this. "I'd hoped he would, though I didn't expect him to," he said with a sigh and a brief shake of his head. "If I could do this whole situation over again..."

"I know." Pepper took another sip of her water. "I almost didn't answer your call. I mean, you lied to Tony about his parents' deaths, you covered for the one who murdered them, you and said murderer left Tony behind alone and injured in Siberia..." Her sentence trailed off when she saw the Super Soldier noticeably flinch under the sting of her words. "But Tony must have seen something in you that was worth something. He kept that damn phone close by. He..."

When she didn't finish her sentence, Steve glanced up to see that she was struggling to hold back the rush of emotions that were fighting to get out. "He what?" he asked.

But Pepper just took another sip of her water, and the smiling waitress returned with their food. "Here you are!" Her voice was much too enthusiastic for the current situation as she set Pepper's cup of soup and half a sandwich in front of her before setting Steve's sandwich and fries before him. "And here's some ketchup for ya, hun! Is there anything else I can get for you?"

Steve glanced at Pepper, whose gaze remained solely on her food, before he shook his head. "No, we're okay, thank you," he replied.

"All right, then! Enjoy!"

The Captain took a deep breath and shook the ketchup bottle while Pepper picked at her soup with her spoon. Before he could repeat his question, her quiet voice gave him pause.

"Where... where did you all go?" she wondered. "After the prison break? Secretary Ross kept trying to reach Tony about it, but he never gave him anything."

Steve arched an eyebrow. The fact that Tony hadn't ratted him out when he'd most likely figured out it was him who had gotten Sam– along with Clint Barton, Scott Lang, and Wanda Maximoff– out of the Raft prison surprised him. "I'm not sure how much Tony told you about everything that happened, but T'Challa granted us asylum in Wakanda," he explained. "We thought it was the safest route at the time. We were protected from Ross and whoever else was out to get us. And Bucky..." He paused when he saw Pepper flinch at the sound of the name. "Well, you heard what I said earlier. T'Challa's protecting him now.

"We stayed for a little over a month before deciding that we couldn't anymore. After all, T'Challa's facing the new responsibilities of being king now, as well as the Black Panther. We didn't want to add another burden on him, and we felt like we were overstaying our welcome. After all, we couldn't stay there forever. Besides, it seems like there's a little disquiet in Wakanda, and that was something we felt like we shouldn't involve ourselves with or get in the way of. So, we left, despite T'Challa telling us we could stay. Sam came with me, and we met back up with Natasha when we returned to the States. Ever since then, we've been wandering around, never staying in one place for very long. Like nomads."

"And... where's Clint now?" Pepper asked. "And the others who were with you?"

"Scott and Wanda?" The Super Soldier paused, taking a bite of his sandwich thoughtfully. "They went with Clint, last I heard. He has a phone like the one I have and the one I gave Tony, just in case we need to get in touch or if there's an emergency. I might give him a call, let him know what happened here... But I'm not sure where they are at the moment."

Pepper nodded, finally taking a small bite of the french onion soup she'd been picking at. "Well, I'm... I'm glad you're here now," she finally said. "To help us find Tony."

Steve smiled slightly. "So am I," he replied.

Then, they ate in silence.

* * *

Peter tapped his foot impatiently as he stared at the clock on the wall in front of him. Detention couldn't be over soon enough, he would have skipped it entirely if he wouldn't have been in even more trouble for already skipping it and would likely have to miss homecoming, but at least he'd been able to use the time to review all the information he'd been able to compile on the Winter Soldier. Considering he was some sort of super assassin, he could sort of understand why Happy didn't want him getting involved. But at the same time, he knew that Happy, Rhodey, and Pepper were going to need all the help they could get, even if they did call in Vision like the head of security had suggested. They'd need his help. After all, he'd stood toe to toe with Bucky Barnes in Germany and had come out relatively unscathed.

Though that's what still confused the teen. He'd been able to catch Bucky's metal arm when the other man had meant to punch him with it, and he'd hesitated, not harming him when he'd had the chance to after he'd heard his voice. Heard how young he was. It was hard for him to reconcile the man he'd seen who'd been trying to help Captain America, who'd paused in the middle of a battle, with the cold-hearted, ruthless killer that he'd read about. Who had taken Tony, who had hurt Tony.

It didn't make any sense to him. Something wasn't right. He just didn't know what that something was.

Finally, the hour was up, and Peter stood up at the first possible second before Coach Wilson even had the opportunity to say a word, gathered up his things, and headed for the door. He passed Michelle, who was finishing up another drawing of him in crisis, and stepped out into the hallway, all but running toward the entrance of the school.

However, before he got there, he heard a familiar voice. The teen slid to a stop before cautiously approaching the adjacent hallway, sneaking a look around the corner.

Liz was standing about halfway down, holding some more decorations for the dance in her hands as she smiled and talked with the older man with the cane he'd seen with Principal Morita earlier. His brow furrowed when he heard he spoke with a slight accent, though he couldn't quite place it.

His senses were trying to tell him something again, were trying to warn him, he could feel it. But what they were trying to warn him about, he wasn't exactly sure. He just knew that something about this man didn't settle very well with him, and he certainly didn't like him being so close to Liz.

So, clearing his throat, Peter began to walk toward the pair. "Hey, Liz!" he called.

The senior girl's smile broadened when she saw him, and she gave him a slight wave. "Hey, Peter," she replied. "What is it?"

The web-slinger came to a stop next to her, returning the cheerful look as he kept watch on the older man out of the corner of his eye. "Oh, uh, I just remembered," he muttered, his mind moving quickly to think of some valid excuse for interrupting a seemingly harmless conversation. "I, uh... I'll need your address. You know, for Friday. Homecoming."

Liz chuckled. "Yeah, I'll get it to you," she assured him. "Don't worry."

Peter nodded with a small smile. "Great."

Then, the older man turned his attention to the teen. "Peter Parker, is it?" he wondered. "We met earlier, yes?"

"Yeah, briefly," Peter muttered carefully. "And, uh, who... who were you, again? I don't think Principal Morita mentioned your name."

"Oh, yes, my apologies. My name is Doctor Johann Fennhoff," the man told him. "I am a psychiatrist, and I am filling in for your school's psychologist while she is on maternity leave." He held out his hand.

Peter glanced at it briefly before he reached out and shook it. "Nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine," Fennhoff replied with a smile. It was a look the web-slinger didn't like. "I was just talking to Miss Allan here about that terrible ordeal in D.C. A near-death experience such as that is something that often sticks with you. You were there for that as well with your decathlon team, were you not, Mr. Parker?"

"I was, yeah. But... but I wasn't actually in the Monument when it happened, I was on the ground," Peter explained. "But, yeah, it was scary knowing that my friends were up there in that elevator."

A look that he couldn't read crossed Fennhoff's face then, and Peter watched as he absently twirled the gold band on his left ring finger. "Still. Your Principal Morita has suggested I speak with each member of your decathlon team this week to make sure you are all coping as well as possible with that near tragedy. Is there a day that would work best for you, Mr. Parker?"

 _Great_. Another reason for a trip to the psychologist was the last thing he needed. Though at least this time, Flash would be included, so the other boy couldn't torture him if word got out. "Well, I really don't think I need to, as I wasn't part of it..." the teen began.

Was it just his imagination, or was there a gleam in the doctor's eyes? "Perhaps not, though you said yourself that seeing your friends in mortal danger was a scary thing," he said quietly. "And that fear can build up if not properly handled. Besides, there is another reason for a visit, no? You were supposed to report to my office earlier today due to a... what was it... a panic attack in the middle of your first period class? Yet you did not. Do not fret. I did not tell your teacher, I assume you had your reasons. But I am told you had an internship with Mr. Tony Stark, yes? You cut most of your after-school activities to allow space for your internship, am I correct?"

Peter stared at the psychiatrist for a long moment before he found his voice. "Uh... um, yeah, I... I had an internship with... with Mr. Stark..." he muttered, glancing at Liz. She gave him an apologetic look, and he swallowed hard. "I'm, uh... I'm sorry I didn't come to your office. I didn't think..."

"It is quite all right," Fennhoff assured him with a smile the web-slinger assumed was meant to be friendly, to be encouraging. But all he saw was something sinister. "Should you report for the session your Principal Morita would like you to attend this week, we may talk about how you are dealing with these distressing reports about Mr. Stark. Does that sound fair?"

The teen slowly nodded. He didn't want to be anywhere near this man's office. Though at the same time, he couldn't deny that he wanted to find out more about him and why his damn senses were on such high alert. "Yeah. Fair," he agreed.

"Good. So, Mr. Parker. Which day works best for your schedule?"

"Um... Thursday, I guess. I, uh, I have a free period, so..."

Fennhoff nodded. "Thursday it is, then. I believe that is also when a Mr. Thompson and Miss Jones have said they can have their sessions as well. Miss Allan here will be meeting with me tomorrow."

So, Flash and Michelle were going to meet with this strange psychiatrist on the same day as he was. Wonderful.

But before Peter could say anything more, Fennhoff reached into his suit jacket pocket when the sound of a phone vibrating reached his ears, and he checked over whatever was on the screen with a smile that told nothing yet everything at the same time.

"Well, it was good to meet you both, but I am afraid I must be going," he informed them. "I look forward to meeting with you and getting to know you more in the face of this terrible ordeal."

Liz smiled. "It was good to meet you, Mr. Fennhoff," she said. "Thank you for wanting to meet with us."

"I assure you, the pleasure is mine." Fennhoff then turned his gaze to Peter. "See you soon, Mr. Parker."

Peter simply nodded, watching as the older man turned and slowly walked away, leaning heavily on his cane for support as he went. He waited until he was out of sight around the corner before turning to Liz. "Am I the only one who thinks he's a little... I don't know, creepy?"

Liz shrugged as she turned back to the decorations she'd been about to hang. "He seems nice to me," she told him. "A little different than who we're used to, but still. That's not a bad thing. Besides, I think it's nice that he and Principal Morita want us to meet with him about what happened last week. I mean..." She hesitated, taking a deep breath. "I still have nightmares about that, you know...? I think it'd be good for us all to talk about it with a professional. Someone who can help us work through what we're feeling about... almost dying. I know my dad will appreciate me talking with someone. And you, with all this talk about what happened with Tony Stark. I didn't know you had a panic attack about it today..."

Peter chuckled lightly, though he was sure the sound came off a bit nervously. "It... it's not a big deal," he muttered. But then, his brow furrowed. Something about that man still didn't sit well with him. "Yeah, I guess you're right. It would be a good thing."

The senior girl offered him a small smile as she brushed a couple loose strands of dark hair behind her ear. "So, how about my address?"

When he finally got outside, Liz's address in the back pocket of his jeans, he found the familiar black car waiting, and the teen dashed over and slid into the backseat, shutting the door behind him.

"You could have told me you had detention, you know," Happy grumbled in way of greeting as he put the car in drive.

"Sorry." Peter put his seatbelt on, his mind not really on the head of security's complaining. The short meeting with Fennhoff was something he couldn't seem to shake. "I have it until the end of the week."

Happy glanced at him in the rearview mirror before he started to drive away from the building. "Well, thank you for letting me know." When the web-slinger didn't answer, he decided to continue. "So, we tried your lead on Aaron Davis today, but he wasn't home, so we'll have to go back another day to try again."

Peter looked back at him from where he'd been staring out the window. "Wait, why would you go back?" he wondered. "If the man with the metal arm is the one who–!"

But he stopped when Happy sighed. "W-what...?"

"Look, kid," the head of security muttered, keeping his gaze straight ahead. "I have it on good authority that Barnes isn't even in the country right now."

 _Not in the country?_ How was that possible? Peter shook his head slightly. "But... but Happy, I saw..." he began, his sentence trailing off when the man slowly shook his head. And was he imagining it, or was that a look of sympathy on his face beneath his sunglasses?

"Remember, buddy. You were being influenced by a powerful hallucinogenic drug up on that roof," he said gently. "It's possible you could have only thought you saw..."

" _No_!" The force in that one word from the teen startled Happy, causing him to quickly glance back in the rearview mirror again. Peter was trembling slightly, his jaw clenched tight. "I know about the gas... and I may have imagined seeing my uncle up there, but I _didn't_ imagine seeing the Winter Soldier. I _know_ I didn't. He's so... sharp, so vivid, in my memories from that day, Happy. He _shot_ Mr. Stark... because he was trying to protect me..." His voice broke a little. "How... how is that not real...?"

The head of security's gaze flickered anxiously between the road in front of him and the web-slinger in the mirror as he pulled to a stop at a red light. His face paled a bit. The teen let out a long, shaking breath as he closed his eyes against the onslaught of tears that threatened to fall as he thought about seeing Ben in the same condition as the last time he'd seen him alive as well as the image of Tony in a similar shape.

"I believe you, kid," Happy finally told him. His voice was wavering ever so slightly. "I believe that you believe you saw him. But I swear to you, bud, it could _not_ have been Barnes. I don't know what's going on with that, but we will figure it out. Just like we'll find Tony."

Peter could hear the urgency in the man's tone, the fear that his former boss, one of his best friends, was not only missing but could be critically injured from a gunshot wound. It was a thought that had been haunting him as well, ever since he'd remembered earlier that day that the billionaire had thrown himself in front of a bullet for him. He'd lost his uncle to a gun; he couldn't imagine losing Tony that way as well.

"But... but I don't get it..." the teen was finally able to say in just above a whisper. He sniffed, attempting to force his tears back. "If... if Barnes isn't in the country, how... how could he have done that to us? I swear to God it was him, Happy..."

A car horn blared from behind them, and Happy cursed and ranted angrily at the driver under his breath as he drove through the light that had turned green about a minute before. "I don't know, kid," he replied through a sigh. "As good as an assassin as he is, there's no way he can be in two places at once."

Peter mulled this over for a moment. "So... some guy just... dressed up like him to... to what... get to Mr. Stark?" he guessed. "Why would someone do that?"

The head of security noticeably hesitated, and Peter cracked an eye open as he looked at the back of his head intently. "Happy...?" he pressed.

"Look, bud. I'm sorry, but it isn't my place to say," he finally told him. "There might be a reason for it, but there's a lot here that I'm not understanding myself. Maybe we can get more answers at the Tower."

Peter straightened up a bit with interest. "What's at the Tower?" he asked.

Happy glanced back at him in the rearview mirror. "You'll see."

* * *

 _Cheerful Christmas music played throughout the vast living room as Maria Stark gazed out the window at the night outside. A light snow was falling, the flakes big and fluffy. Her favorite. The world always seemed so quiet in snowfalls like this. And that was when the world was her favorite place._

 _The smell of freshly baking cookies permeated the room, and she smiled to herself as she turned, humming quietly along with the carol as she took a couple more golden ornaments to hang on their tall Christmas tree in the corner beside the fireplace. She couldn't have been happier. It was almost Christmas, and she was spending the holiday season with the people she loved more than anything else in the world. Her husband Howard, who was appearing a bit more gray these days, was sitting in his armchair near the bookshelf with a glass of bourbon, his lined brow furrowed in concentration as he read over an important article in a scientific engineering journal which he'd hardly been able to put down for the past few hours, claiming the research there would help fuel his own looming breakthrough. Edwin Jarvis, their household butler, was singing along with all the songs that played over the radio in his cheerful English accent while his wife, Ana, tended to the cookies in the kitchen. While he was under their employment, Edwin was much more like part of the family, and he and his lovely wife had even taken such a love to her and Howard's young son that he was almost like their own. It was a bond Maria found particularly important, especially this time of year, since due to serious injury, Ana was unable to have children of her own. And she certainly couldn't say the amount of love her son always received in this house was a bad thing._

 _Speaking of her son, Maria beamed as she turned her gaze to the lively six-year-old lying stretched out on his stomach on the floor, the tip of his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth in concentration as he carefully colored in the drawing he'd been working on for the past couple hours, wanting to make sure it was perfect. Tony hadn't showed any of them what he was working on, even going as far to hide it when she and Edwin had asked, and she knew it was because the drawing was for Howard._

 _It was this thought that caused her gaze to falter ever so slightly. Howard loved Tony, she didn't doubt that in any way. The idea of fatherhood had always intimidated and flat out frightened him, as he was one who had never seen himself as the settling down type. But ever since their son had unexpectedly entered their lives, he'd settled well overall into his role as father for this young boy, despite the struggles and uncertainties he often faced. But recently, she'd noticed that her husband had been acting a bit... off. A bit strange. He was more distant from her, but even more so from Tony. She didn't understand it, but he wasn't giving her any answers despite how she would ask for them. Something was different about Howard, and even though it concerned her, she could see how it was even more frightening for him. Something had happened, was possibly still happening, though she didn't know what or where it could have happened._

 _And it didn't seem like there was anything she could do to help him._

 _Tony narrowed his eyes a bit as he finished coloring the last bit of blue in that was needed before a broad smile spread across his face as he set the crayon aside. The look lingering, he scrambled to his feet and dashed over to where Howard was sitting, waiting with anticipation right next to his legs. He reached out and set a small hand on his knee._

 _"Daddy!"_

 _Maria watched her husband carefully, seeing out of the corner of her eye that Edwin was lingering a little closer as he continued to sing quietly along with the song. She knew he'd noticed the changes in his longtime friend as well and was equally concerned as to what could have happened. As to what could have been scaring the other man so. And that he was feeling as helpless as she was about it._

 _A long moment passed before Howard lowered the journal he'd been reading to his lap and looked down at the young boy. "Yes, Tony?" he asked, his tone still a bit on the formal side._

 _However, Tony seemed not to notice as he held out the sheet of paper he'd kept so hidden. "I drew this for you, Daddy!" he answered proudly._

 _Howard's gaze faltered, and Maria's breath caught in her chest when she saw his eyes flit to her. There was terror there, hidden beneath the indifference and the uncertainty._

 _Tony's smile began to wane._

 _But the moment was over as quickly as it happened, and Howard turned back to his son. He briefly hesitated before slowly setting the journal aside after making sure to mark his page. "Well, let's see it, then."_

 _Encouraged, Tony climbed up onto his father's lap, settling in securely before holding up the paper yet again. "Here, Daddy!"_

 _Howard took the drawing that was being shoved under his nose with excitement before holding it out a bit in front of him to get a better look at it. He let out a long breath as his gaze passed over the three figures on the page, sketched by the six-year-old's unpracticed hand._

 _"That's you, Daddy," Tony explained, pointing to the man on the left wearing a nice brown suit. "And that's Aunt Peggy." He moved his small finger to the woman wearing an official-looking uniform on the right._

 _"And in the middle?" Howard prompted quietly. Though he needn't have asked; he knew exactly who it was, holding that red and blue shield with the star in its center._

 _Tony beamed as he looked up at him. "Captain America!" he told him as though it was the most obvious thing in the world._

 _"Of course it is," Howard muttered._

 _The little boy nodded enthusiastically. "He was a hero, right, Daddy? America's hero?"_

 _The man nodded. "That's right. Your aunt was a hero, too." His brow furrowed._

 _Tony met his gaze, confused. "You're a hero, too, Daddy," he said._

 _"Not like they were," Howard replied, about to set the drawing aside when he paused at Tony's next words._

 _"You're my hero, Daddy. You're so smart."_

 _Maria smiled as a thin line of tears formed in her eyes, feeling as Edwin patted her lightly on the back as he went to hang another ornament, singing right along as he went. For a moment, she could see her husband's tough exterior crack._

 _Howard's gaze faltered before he patted the young boy lightly on the head. "It looks pretty good, Tony," he finally told him, setting the picture aside before taking a sip of his bourbon and reaching for the scientific journal again._

 _Tony frowned a little, but he still leaned into his father and wrapped his small arms around his middle in a hug. Howard briefly wound an arm around him in return._

 _The small child was about to jump down to the ground when Edwin appeared in front of him._

 _"How would the young sir like to put the star on top of the tree?"_

 _Tony grinned as he reached out toward his friend and mentor, and Edwin scooped him up and carefully set him on his shoulder so he would be able to reach. But he gave Howard a meaningful look, one that caused the other man's gaze to crumple beneath its weight, before he handed the decorative star to the six-year-old and started to make his way toward the tree._

 _The distant sound of the doorbell ringing reached them then, and Ana hurried in from the kitchen. "That must be Peggy and Daniel!" she announced before disappearing from sight._

 _Maria watched as Edwin helped to guide Tony, who appeared to be concentrating just as hard on this task as he was on his drawing for Howard, to put the star on the top of the tree before she once again turned to face her husband. Though she was surprised to see that he wasn't buried in his journal, as she expected him to be._

 _He was instead staring intently at what their son had drawn for him._

Tony resisted the pull of consciousness for as long as he could. He wasn't sure when he'd drifted off or how long he'd been out for– after all, there was no way of keeping time in this place he was holed up in. And while he was undeniably being dragged out of that blissful realm of sleep, he refused to open his eyes. He knew this Doctor and those cosplayers working for him had filtered more of the hallucinogenic gas into the room, he'd heard it coming through the vents, and he really didn't want to know what he would see if he did.

And, quite frankly, the memory he'd dreamed about hadn't been all that bad. It was a feeling he wanted to hang onto. His sweet, loving mother, who'd always loved that quiet time of year. Cheerful Jarvis, who'd never failed to make him smile, same as Ana. His aunt and uncle and all of the fun, thrilling stories they'd always told for his overactive mind. Even his father, at least in this memory, hadn't been so far out of reach at this point in time. It hadn't been too long after that when the wedge between them had only seemed to divide them more, but he still felt as though there were some definite holes in his memory from around that time.

And there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that those things he was missing were somehow important.

Though something about that memory still unsettled him, and it was that his Bucky and Steve look-alike captors somehow _knew_ about that drawing he'd made for Howard all of those years ago. They knew exactly what he'd drawn, that his father had secretly kept it in his desk for all those years, and they even knew _why_ he had drawn it. There was no way those were lucky guesses, like he'd tried to pass them off as earlier. So that _had_ to mean that Howard really _had_ been with whoever this so-called Doctor was at some point. But when? And what had happened to him? He didn't know the answers to those questions, though the possibilities chilled him.

What did that mean for him now?

The billionaire flinched slightly when he heard the door to the room unlock before it opened, followed by heavy footsteps coming straight for him. He didn't move until he heard raised, angered voices in a language he couldn't understand right before a swift kick to the ribs caused him to gasp and nearly cry out, though he quickly bit down on the sound before it could escape. Pain flared in his abdomen, as the boot had come in contact with the gunshot wound he'd sustained when he'd been on the rooftop with...

 _Peter_. Where was he? Had he escaped? Was he...?

However, his thoughts were forcefully interrupted when a couple pairs of hands grabbed him roughly and yanked him up from the floor without care, starting to drag him across the room. Despite his best efforts, Tony's eyes slipped open, and a jolt of panic ran through him when he saw the rocky walls of a familiar dark cave on every side of him, and that he was being handled by two men whose faces he could not see.

He squeezed his eyes shut again. No, this was the gas, he had to remind himself. He wasn't back in that cave in Afghanistan... oh, God, he _couldn't_ be... he wouldn't survive if he were, he knew that... he was in whatever hideout these... cosplayers and the Doctor were using. He wasn't in that cave... he wasn't in that cave...

Tony felt a draft, likely coming from a nearby staircase or doorway, and saw some light through his closed eyelids, but that quickly faded as he was pulled down a dark, almost suffocating hallway. The two men on either side of him weren't bothering to be gentle as they pulled him along, not caring how he stumbled. He kept his eyes closed, because after all, they couldn't get to him if he didn't see what the gas would make him see. It was a reminder he needed, he couldn't fall for the tricks his mind was playing on him.

Instead, he tried to keep his focus on the smiling face of Jarvis, the mischievous gleam in Ana's eye as she snuck him a warm cookie before dinner, the love in his mother's eyes as she looked at him, the way Peggy's face lit up when she laughed, Daniel's bit of a snort as he did the same, and even, for the briefest of moments, the pride on Howard's face when his guard was let down when he saw the drawing that he had given him as a boy and when he'd heard he was his hero...

He clung to these images, these thoughts, these emotions. He had to if he wanted to make it through whatever they had in store for him now. Even with the hallucinogenic clouding his senses, he knew it wasn't going to be good.

Soon, he heard another door opening, able to tell it hadn't had much use in quite some time by the sound it made as they dragged him through. This room was damp, cold. And somehow, even through his closed eyes, it seemed even darker than the other room he'd been kept in so far.

Tony winced when he was forced down to his knees on the hard floor, his two captors yanking his arms behind his back and securing his hands tightly with rough rope. His breathing quickened. This felt all too familiar...

"Look at me, Tony."

The billionaire stiffened. That voice... he knew that voice...

No, it wasn't him. It wasn't who he'd considered a friend. He knew better. It wasn't...

A sudden hit to the back of his head startled him, causing his eyes to open against their will. He sucked in a breath, knowing what he would see before he even saw it. Yes, the familiar stone walls were still there, the same ones he swore that part of him he'd left behind after those three months still resided in.

In front of him stood Steve... No, not Steve, he quickly had to remind himself. The cheap Steve knock-off. Bao, he thought he recalled his name to be. Nevertheless, he was standing in front of him with a smug smirk that he'd just love to knock off his face since it wasn't worthy of the man he was pretending to be. Next to him, a camera on a tripod was set up facing him, the blinking red light piercing the darkness.

Yup, he knew exactly what was going to happen here. And he didn't like it one bit.

Though he noticed that Bao's light eyes were focused on something on the floor in front of him. Tony knew it wasn't going to be anything good, that it was something he was going to regret looking at himself. But he couldn't help it.

He looked down.

His hazel eyes widened in panic, and his breath stopped short.

In front of him sat a large basin filled with cold water.

 **Author's Note** : Two quick notes here! I know that *technically*, a version of Johann Fennhoff was in the MCU in the first season of the _Agent Carter_ show. However, I'm kinda going along one of the comic lines with him, just using a bit of an artistic license in some cases to make him fit this story more. Also, I'm of the belief that Howard wasn't abusive to Tony as a child. Maybe a little negligent, but not terribly. I feel like he was more emotionally distant than anything, and while he loved Tony, he didn't know how to show it, and so it was shown in a way that as a little kid, Tony wouldn't understand. But Howard's behavior in terms of his parenting toward Tony is going to be tied into everything as well for this story, so this little flashback was important. A million thank yous to **CoffeeRanger** for her input on the reveal of Fennhoff here, as well as the headcanons involving Howard and Tony and other future things for this story! Thank you guys for reading! As always, feedback is always appreciated. Until next time! And Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!


	13. Chapter 13- Interlude

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note (important!)** : Okay, guys, I'm so, so terribly sorry for my long absence. It was just, like, a perfect storm for me not to be able to write. I had surgery (I'm okay!), and then work (along with a couple other things) has been stressful, and then I had a family member in the hospital. So, needless to say, it's been incredibly difficult to get my Plot Bunnies cooperating. But, seeing Infinity War definitely kicked them into gear (and, scarily enough, gave them ideas -_-). Speaking of, this story will soooorta start inching in the direction of Infinity War with some of the plot devices and characters, but it won't be any major deviation from the track this story was already taking. Just wanted to give a head's up there. Now, this chapter's referred to as the "interlude", or "the calm before the storm", because this is meant to kinda show where everyone is before things really seriously start going down, but also to move the plot forward a bit more, of course. And, because my absence was so long, I thought I'd introduce another couple new characters in here to help make for it. Thank you SO much to everyone sticking by me– your reviews, your follows, your favorites, and your nudging me to continue have REALLY helped me along. It means a lot, guys, it really does! So, here's a nice long chapter as an apology from me. Hope you guys like it!

A little **editorial note** : I tinkered around with a couple things in chapter 12 involving Bucky to fit the slight change in narrative going forward.

In response to **Guest** : I'm sorry this story took so long, but I'm glad that you love this story so much! :-) Hopefully you like this one, too!

In response to **Sophia Thomas** : I apologize for how long it's been! I'm so happy you find this story so amazing! I appreciate it, and this story will be finished, I promise! Thank you for your review! :-)

In response to **Guest** : Sorry about how long it's been, I hope you like this chapter, too! :-)

All right, I won't keep you any longer. Enjoy! :-D

* * *

 _Chapter 13– Interlude (Or "The Calm Before the Storm")_

Pepper sat stiffly on the firm couch in the clean, well-kept living room, one leg crossed over the other with her foot tapping in time to an unheard beat as she kept her stern gaze straight ahead. Beside her, Sam was slouched against the back cushions, absently fiddling with his black-framed glasses. Silence pervaded the space between them, and though neither was overly familiar with the other– in fact, the CEO reasoned, this was the first time she'd been alone with one of the newer Avengers and had exchanged more than just a simple and friendly "hello" with him– it wasn't an uncomfortable one.

"Thanks again for coming with me, Sam," she finally muttered. If anything, just to keep herself from going crazy. A distraction would be good, she realized, as she pried her slightly shaking fingers apart.

Sam sighed quietly, his gaze landing on the television in the corner. He was instantly relieved that it was switched off instead of playing the continuous loop of news coverage of what could have potentially happened to Tony that they couldn't seem to get away from. That was the last thing the woman beside him needed. He may not have known her well, but her reputation certainly preceded her, and even he could see her tough, professional exterior was beginning to crack under the strain of her fear for the man he believed she still loved.

"Yeah, my pleasure," he replied just as quietly, slipping the glasses back on. "Redwing can run those scans of the footage I got from that rooftop without me. And, I mean, I know I was really the only option since Rhodes' rehabbing, Nat's still going through files to try to find out more about who could've taken the Chitauri tech, and Steve might've been too recognizable. But still. My pleasure." He paused with a grin. "Besides, I don't think Happy would have let you leave without me."

Sam was pleased to see that this brought a smile to his companion's face, and even caused her to chuckle. Both feats were much too rare as of late.

"Probably not," Pepper agreed, the cheerful look lingering. "Even though he's no longer _officially_ head of security, he still takes his job _very_ seriously. Especially since his other duties of managing things at the Tower have indefinitely been put on hold. And in light of... of recent events..."

That bright look faltered, and Sam let out a quiet breath. This was a path he hadn't wanted her to venture down. "Pepper..." he began hesitantly.

"I'm good." Pepper turned to him with another smile, but it was clearly forced. "Just gotta get through this meeting."

Sam arched an eyebrow and lightly crossed his arms over his chest. "What exactly is this meeting you had to go to that was so important?"

A genuine gleam returned to the CEO's eye. But before she could say anything, approaching footsteps caused both of them to turn their attention to the doorway leading into the kitchen. A tall, lanky man with the start of a receding hairline and round glasses hurried into the living room, a carrying crate in his hand. Sam arched an eyebrow as he glanced at Pepper, whose smile had grown.

"Hi, sorry about that," the man said, setting the crate carefully on the floor beside the couch. "Took our little guy a bit longer than expected to go down for his nap. Thank you for coming and being patient, Ms. Potts."

"It's my pleasure to be here, Jerry," Pepper replied, the cheerful look lingering as she reached out and shook his proffered hand before Sam did the same from next to her. "I'm excited to meet her. Hopefully she'll be comfortable enough around us to try taking her home."

Jerry grinned as he dropped to a knee and opened the door of the carrying crate. "I'm sure she will be, it just takes her a minute to get used to new people," he told them. Sam leaned forward, curious, while Pepper did the same in anticipation. The man straightened up to face them a moment later, a small shih tzu with a pink ribbon in her fur in his arms.

"Guys, meet Lily!"

* * *

"Yeah, I've seen the news reports," the mohawked man murmured, balancing the flip phone between his ear and his shoulder. "Any reason to believe that Stark is dead?" It was harsh, he knew; he could tell by the slightest of flinches by the young woman sitting at the foot of the bed he'd perched cross-legged on. But he'd never been one for subtlety in matters of importance. And neither had the voice he trusted nearly more than any other on the other end of the conversation. In fact, he knew she appreciated it.

 _"We're looking further into it,"_ Natasha told him, and with as well as he knew her, he couldn't detect any sort of clue in her voice about how that search was going. He couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing. Though this was a situation that they hadn't really faced before. _"Steve and Happy have both been down by the scene, but there wasn't much they could find. Redwing's going through some footage that Sam managed to capture now. Nothing yet."_

He let out a heavy breath, absently fiddling with his folded bow. That left two options– Tony had either perished in the explosion, or he'd been taken captive. Some trace of him would have been found by then if it were anything else. He truly hoped it wasn't the former. Sure, they hadn't always seen eye to eye, especially with recent events when their team had imploded. But overall, Stark was a decent man who'd had some bad cards dealt to him– as had they all– but still fought for what he believed was right. It was what any of them, this former team of misfits, did. It was all they could do. He couldn't begrudge him that.

And the latter... well, the latter was something they could work with.

"How's Pepper holding up?" he asked quietly. He'd been a little surprised to learn that Natasha, Steve, and Sam had joined up with Pepper, Rhodey, and Spider-Man to figure out what had happened to the billionaire, but the unknown fate of one of their former teammates was certainly a good enough reason to. He knew that she and Tony were taking a break, but he'd glimpsed a couple gossip blog posts about the former couple, who'd apparently been spotted having breakfast together just recently. Which, for some reason he couldn't fathom, had been huge internet news. Though he couldn't help but find it amusing how many young women seemed to take the news that the great Tony Stark had been caught eating a meal in public with the CEO of his company so personally offensive. As frustrating as the other man could be when it came to his personal life and relationships, it was obvious to anyone who knew him that his heart had ever truly belonged to Pepper.

And he wasn't blind. Even in the low-quality picture that had been snuck, he could see that love was still there between them, whether they wanted to admit it or not. As stubborn as they both were, they needed each other. Someone needed to keep Stark in line, after all. He just hoped they'd have the chance to resolve whatever issue had been there to cause the rift in the first place.

 _"Trying to be strong."_ Natasha's voice was heavy. _"I give her credit. She's willing to search for answers right along with us. No matter where they may lead."_

A moment passed where he simply watched the small television set, seeing a reporter– who, he couldn't help but notice, had similar hair and features to Pepper– was interviewing a couple people from the group of protesters who'd been at the site of the explosion in defense of Tony for the past couple days. He really hoped that the billionaire never saw this footage. It was the last thing his already inflated ego needed, and quite frankly, the crocodile tears and overacting– like they were somehow so emotionally affected because they dreamed of knowing him personally– was sickening.

But he also had to admire Pepper's quiet courage. It was one she shared with Laura, one which his wife was forced to carry every time he left. And he knew that if he were the one in Tony's position, she would be the same way.

"And how's Spider-Man holding up?" he wondered after a moment, pushing the image of Laura's smiling face from his mind. His sharp gaze passed over the light-haired woman, still sitting tensely at the foot of the bed, and the dark-haired man standing closer to the television, his expression grave as he watched the report. Without a word, he set his bow on the mattress beside him before picking up the remote and turning off the television. The young woman noticeably relaxed before she glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyes slightly wide, while the man turned to him with an eyebrow raised.

 _"I wouldn't know, we haven't actually seen him,"_ Natasha told him. _"But Pepper said the kid's devastated. He idolizes Stark. There's no way he could have done this."_

"I know, I ain't blaming him." The mohawked man picked up his folded bow again, starting to fiddle with it once more. "I know we were on different teams, but he's a good kid. He doesn't seem capable at all of doing something like this. I agree with you it's much more likely that whoever Spider-Man was after, the leader of that group dealing Chitauri weapons, is to blame. How'd the kid describe him again?"

The amusement was clear in his closest friend's voice. _"The man with wings,"_ she muttered. _"Seems like you've got some competition. Sam's frustrated, too."_

Despite himself, he felt a smirk tug up the corner of his lips. "Shouldn't be too hard to track down a man running around looking like a giant bird."

However, Natasha remained silent, and he slowly leaned forward a bit when he detected the heaviness in it. "Nat?"

She sighed heavily. _"Spider-Man's convinced he saw Barnes up on that rooftop before it exploded,"_ she explained. _"Granted, he and Tony were under the influence of some sort of hallucinogenic at the time, but he was adamant about what he saw."_

Running a hand through his mohawk, the man's brow furrowed slightly as he leaned back against the headboard. "Impossible, Barnes is in Wakanda."

 _"I know. But he's convinced he saw him."_

A long moment passed where neither spoke before her voice came through the small flip phone again. _"Clint?"_

Clint Barton briefly closed his eyes. It was a tone he'd only heard from her a few times before. Something was wrong. "Yeah, Nat?"

 _"Something's going on here,"_ Natasha said. _"There's more to this that we're not seeing. But I don't know what it is."_

Taking a deep breath, the archer opened his eyes again. His gaze landed first on the young woman, who'd turned her attention to the flashes of scarlet forming absently around her slender fingers, before moving to dark-haired man, who'd leaned against the wall and started snacking on the small pack of orange slices candy they'd managed to pick up from a run-down gas station.

"What do you want us to do?"

* * *

 _"I assure you, Captain Rogers. Your friend will be safe here. The White Wolf will rise."_

Steve sat patiently as he waited for the Skype call to go through on the tablet resting in his hands, camped out in a side room in the Tower that had been emptied of whatever had been kept in it before that point. He chuckled to himself as he thought back to how Sam had not only bought the device for him, but had spent quite some time teaching him how to use it. It was still surprising to him how he could talk to someone a world away face to face as though they were there through this handheld device, but he had to admit it was a convenient way to keep in touch when his time only allowed him to drop by Wakanda every so often.

Though as he continued to wait, the words from the last conversation he'd had with T'Challa echoed in his mind. He was truly grateful to the new king for doing everything possible to not only make sure Bucky was safe, but also to help heal his mind, which his best friend had felt he wasn't able to trust. From the couple times he'd been able to see him in person, and the times they'd communicated via Skype, Steve could really see the progress being made in the other man by being in the peaceful atmosphere of the reclusive kingdom as well as by the efforts that Shuri, T'Challa's sister, was making with him. Seeing his old best friend beginning to emerge again, this White Wolf as the people of Wakanda called him, while watching as the Winter Soldier slowly disappeared felt like a great burden he hadn't fully realized he'd been carrying was finally being relieved of him. He would never be able to repay the royal family's kindness.

Then, the ringing stopped, and a moment passed before a familiar face popped up on the screen. Steve couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. While his best friend appeared weary, he still looked more like the man who he considered his brother than he had in a long time. The quiet kindness was back in his features, and the tired smile still reached his eyes.

"Hey, Buck."

 _"Steve."_ Bucky nodded once. _"It's a bit sooner than I expected for you to call again. No covert mission this week?"_

The Super Soldier briefly shook his head. That was one thing he felt as though he hadn't been able to share with Rhodey and Pepper about their whereabouts since the fallout in Siberia. He, Natasha, and Sam had been picking up undercover missions in the Middle East or wherever else they were needed while they'd been in hiding, helping out as many people as they could on their own.

"No," he answered. "We've actually been in the States for a little while. I was making plans to come out there, but..." He paused, clearing his throat. "How's everything with you? You're looking better."

Bucky shrugged, and Steve's gaze faltered when he saw the place where his metallic arm used to be. It was a painful reminder of the past that he no longer had to deal with, granted, but there had to be something else that could be done for him. Shuri was a smart girl, he trusted that she could figure out something.

 _"I'm feeling a little better,"_ he told him. _"I don't come into the main city very often, except to work with Shuri, so I've just been helping a lot of the people out here when I can. Still tending goats, things like that."_

"Sounds like a dream," Steve murmured. Much like Bucky, he was tired. Tired of war, tired of fighting. The costs of saving the world were only getting increasingly higher. At some point, it would be too much, as much as he couldn't afford that to be the case. Spending some time out in the country, having peace and quiet, sounded like an appealing retirement.

 _"After everything..."_ Bucky's sentence trailed off, but it was one he didn't have to finish. It was a sentiment the Super Soldier understood completely. It was no surprise when he changed the subject. _"How about you? You're looking a little... ragged."_

Steve chuckled. "Am I that obvious?" he wondered, causing the other man to grin. "Well, not too long after arriving in the States, we saw a disturbing news report... And we got called in."

Bucky's brow furrowed. _"You're talking about Tony Stark and that Spider Kid... right?"_ he wondered. When the other man raised an eyebrow, he continued. _"T'Challa showed me the news story. Find anything out yet?"_

"Not yet." Steve let out a long breath, shaking his head slightly. "We've checked out the scene, and there's nothing there to see. Unless Redwing comes up with something that I didn't see. No sign of Tony..."

 _"So, you don't know if he's alive or dead."_ A moment of silence passed between the two where Steve couldn't even meet his best friend's gaze before Bucky leaned forward a bit. _"Steve, this isn't your fault. You know that, right?"_

Steve attempted a small smile. "I know, Buck," he muttered. "I just... I can't help it, you know? After what happened in Siberia..."

 _"I'm going to stop you right there,"_ Bucky interrupted. _"I know how much all that sucked, Steve. It wasn't an easy situation. You made your choice, and we both have to fix things. But there isn't any way of taking it back, no matter how much you want to. No matter how much I want to. All you can do is move forward. Find out what happened to Stark."_

"Yeah. You're right."

Bucky frowned. _"What aren't you telling me?"_

Steve took a deep breath as he shifted his position on the floor. "You mentioned that Spider Kid... the one from Queens?" he prompted. "The one being blamed for what happened to Tony?"

 _"Yeah, I remember him from the airport,"_ Bucky replied thoughtfully. _"Seemed really young to be fighting... Doesn't seem capable of what they're saying happened to Stark..."_

"No, definitely not, and that's the consensus here," Steve agreed, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "That the kid is being blamed bothers me, certainly. But..."

Bucky arched an eyebrow, tilting his head forward. _"But?"_

Steve meet his best friend's gaze. "He said he saw you... on top of that building," he muttered, his voice wavering ever so slightly. "He said he saw you shoot Tony before the explosive went off. They were under the effects of a hallucinogenic gas, and the kid's able to recognize what was a result of that, but... he's convinced you weren't a hallucination."

The other man remained silent for a long time, his blank face not giving any indication as to what was running through his mind. _"I see that being one of two things,"_ he finally said, breaking the heavy silence. _"Either it was a really powerful hallucination, or, for some reason I'm not thinking of, someone's running around dressed up like me."_

The Captain's brow furrowed. "Why would someone do that?" he asked. "Go after Tony and Spider-Man dressed up as you, and then blame the kid for whatever happened?"

 _"I don't know, Steve,"_ Bucky answered with a slight shrug. _"But maybe you're looking at it the wrong way."_

"How so?"

Bucky shifted in his seat slightly. _"Well, I mean, Stark's the one missing, yeah?"_ he posed. _"I'd take that to mean he's the target, since... whoever attacked them allowed the kid to get away. That tells me that he wasn't their top priority. He was, at most, collateral damage, while Tony was the mission. What purpose would having someone looking like me serve in terms of the kid?"_

Steve shook his head briefly. "Nothing... there's nothing personal between you two. You only know each other from the airport."

 _"Right."_ Bucky hesitated. _"But... for Stark?"_

Memories of Siberia, of that fateful security footage of Tony's parents, flashed through Steve's mind. "... Everything."

Bucky nodded with a frown. _"Exactly."_

The Super Soldier sighed, briefly closing his eyes as he leaned his head back against the wall. "Right, I get that, and I agree with you that Tony was the main target," he mumbled. "The kid just seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and blaming him was just opportunistic. But... what I don't get is, despite the significance of why someone dressed up at you would negatively affect Tony, not everyone knows that. I mean, news got out about our fight in Siberia, we couldn't help that. But not many people know about what caused that to begin with... About what you did."

If he was uncomfortable about being reminded of the murders of Howard and Maria Stark, Bucky didn't show it. _"Well... sounds to me like you're dealing with someone who does know about what happened,"_ he told him. _"Not just from Siberia, but before that. The video. What happened that night."_

A brief moment passed before Steve's eyes snapped open. "Buck. You just gave me a lead."

* * *

Rhodey dropped to a sitting position on the treadmill, closing his eyes as he took some deep, shaking breaths. He winced as he straightened his legs out as best as he could ahead of him, frustrated with how the braces weren't quite working properly as they stiffened up. He allowed his head to drop to his chest as he continued to catch his breath, the image of the news reports about Tony being missing– or worse– burned into his mind from the television on the wall across from the treadmill in the exercise room. He'd been staring at the screen intently as he pushed himself, the headlines about what fate could have possibly befallen his closest friend driving him forward.

Damn his legs, damn his exhaustion. But despite his clear, and frustrating, limitations, he was determined to do whatever he had to do to find the billionaire and bring him home. There was no way he could allow this to be a repeat of Afghanistan, he just couldn't allow it...

Sensing another presence in the room then, Rhodey slowly opened his eyes to see Vision standing next to the treadmill, concern clear in his eyes. He slowly reached a hand out. "If I may, Colonel," he said.

A moment passed before Rhodey conceded, taking the android's hand as he allowed him to help him unsteadily to his feet. "Thank you," he replied, still a bit breathless as he leaned against the handle of the treadmill.

"Are you all right?" Vision wondered instead, gazing at him closely. "I am concerned you may be overdoing it."

The colonel just laughed. "Yeah, I'll be all right," he muttered, wincing again as he stretched out his left leg. "I just, uh..." He paused, glancing over his shoulder at the news report. Vision followed his gaze, his face remaining blank as he floated over and shut the television off.

"I can't... I can't let it be like last time," Rhodey finished, mainly to himself. "I have to continue to get my strength up to find him..."

Vision slowly turned around, what appeared to be pity on his face. "You were the one who did not give up on looking for him last time," he told him. "Mr. Stark does not blame you for what happened in Afghanistan, Colonel. As he would not blame you now. You are not alone in finding him."

"Yeah, well..." Rhodey cleared his throat, turning away from the android. "Where is everyone?"

"Ms. Potts and Mr. Wilson have just returned from their meeting with a dog," Vision told him, causing the colonel to look over at him with surprise. "Ms. Romanoff had a phone call she had to take, and I am uncertain of Captain Rogers' whereabouts. Mr. Hogan and his charge have not yet returned."

"Okay. Good to know." Rhodey closed his eyes tightly again as he hung his head. "Hey. Can I tell you something?"

Vision glanced around the room, ensuring the door was closed. "Of course you may, Colonel."

Rhodey let out a deep breath, bringing his folded hands up for his chin to rest on as he gazed ahead thoughtfully. "I'm not sure how I feel about all this, Vision," he told him. "I mean, about Sam, Natasha... Steve. After everything that happened with the Accords, and in Siberia... I should've gotten Secretary Ross on them the moment I saw them. But I couldn't. I wouldn't. Not with what's going on with Tony. I know they only want to help, and believe me, I appreciate that. I was just... so angry when I first saw him. Steve. Because of what he did to Tony. But not really anymore, and... I don't know, I mean... I know we're all supposed to be on the same team..."

"Yes. It was catastrophe." Vision drew nearer. "But perhaps it takes another catastrophe to bring all of us who were scattered together again."

The colonel thought this over for a moment before he nodded, a sad smile on his face. "It shouldn't have to come to that," he murmured.

"No, it should not," Vision agreed quietly. "Though that is what we have before us now. And together, we do the only thing we can do." When Rhodey arched an eyebrow, the android gave him a small smile of his own. "We find Mr. Stark."

* * *

Tony gasped loudly as he was roughly pulled back out of the basin, his sinuses burning as he coughed to force the cold water from his lungs. The hands that gripped his arms were unrelenting and tense, prepared to force him back under the moment his captor commanded it.

His captor... one of the worst cosplays of Captain Steve Rogers he'd ever seen. Or, at least, that's what he tried to tell himself. That it had to be the gas that made Bao look so much like the man who had fought alongside him many times before, who was one of the few people he considered a friend...

... _had_ considered a friend... They probably would never get back to where they had been before everything went to hell between them, he figured. He probably wouldn't get a chance to change that– if it could be fixed– if he couldn't even walk out of this place.

No, he couldn't afford to think like that. He would get out, one way or another. There would be a chink in the armor that Bao and Arsen had fitted around themselves– there always was one, and he would find it. If he had to go through this elusive doctor himself, then so be it. In spite of the gas, in spite of the painful memories of his past these people were trying to stir up inside his mind to cripple him, he would get out. He had to, he had no other choice.

He had to get back to Peter... to make sure the kid was unharmed...

He had to get back to Pepper... to tell her what he should have told her the morning he'd invited her out to breakfast, that he'd planned to but hadn't been able to...

He would get out.

A cruel laugh broke through his thoughts, heard over the harsh sound of his ragged breathing, and Tony clenched his jaw tightly. "Had enough, Stark?"

The billionaire felt his hand curl into a fist. Bao's voice was so aggravating to his racing mind he wished he could simply punch it out of existence. He slowly raised his hazel eyes to rest on the Star Spangled rip-off, wondering how even with the gas he'd ever, even for the briefest of moments, mistaken him for the real thing. At least the cold shock of the water had managed to clear his senses a bit so he could see everything for what it actually was. Sure, the man's hair was styled immaculately just like the Super Soldier's, but his face was much too round, too pale. His nose was just a little too long, his forehead too high. His cheek bones weren't high or sharp enough. The do-right-by-your-fellow-man, the take-your-vitamins-and-eat-your-vegetables, and the confused-by-the-most-basic-technology innocence simply didn't exist in his features. His eyes, the ones that were the same exact shade as Steve's, were as cold and cruel as his voice, and the smirk in that twisted his lips in an ugly way would never even come close to his former friend's face.

Tony spared a brief glance at the flashing red light of the camera beside the other man, knowing that the whole session in this small, dimly-lit room had been recorded for someone to see. He didn't like the implications of that, but he also didn't want to show whoever's eyes this was meant for any sign of weakness. He wouldn't make it any more difficult for them than it already likely would be.

So instead, he narrowed his eyes, glaring at his captor.

"Go to hell," he hissed with all the animosity that he could muster.

Bao's smirk simply broadened as he nodded to the men holding their captive in place. "Continue."

Tony took a deep breath when the hands that were willing and waiting for this moment tightened even more around his arms as a hand roughly rested against the back of his head. He closed his eyes tightly, willing the panic that had sparked to life deep in his heart to subside as he prepared to be submerged yet again.

Oh, how he hated to be over his head in water...

 _The coldness shocked him, robbing him of breath as water rushed into his lungs to take its place..._

 _The terrorists around him laughed as he sputtered out water, gasping just to breathe..._

 _His lungs burned with the need for breath, darkness began to settle over his mind as he lost the battle to keep the scarce air he had left in his body..._

 _A strange sense of peace consumed him as he allowed himself to be soothed by the cold, gentle water, feeling himself falling right before he was jerked out into the harsh air once again..._

 _He shivered in the cold breeze as consciousness returned to him once again, knowing it would only be a short moment of reprieve before he was submerged once more..._

 _When would this mercifully end?_

Despite himself, Tony felt his entire body tense as he was forced downward, back toward the cold, dark, unmerciful water.

"Stop."

The soft, almost gentle command was obeyed immediately, and the billionaire slowly let out the breath he'd been holding when the water merely lapped against the tip of his nose and brushed delicately against his forehead. He slowly opened his eyes, his brow furrowing when he realized this was a new voice, one that he didn't recognize. Its slight accent sounded older, filled with years of experience and jaded by what the world had thrown at it. There was a cruelty there, certainly, but also an almost hypnotic influence. And though not spoken forcefully, it had a clear authority that filled the room.

Even without seeing him, Tony knew this was the doctor.

"Let him up."

Tony tried not to show the immense relief he felt as he was lifted away from the basin, still kept on his knees by the men behind him. He instantly saw that Bao had taken a few steps back away from them, his taunting demeanor gone as his light eyes were instead directed at the floor. His gaze then rested on the man who had entered the room, and the power he had over those who worked for him was evident, even though he wasn't an intimidating specimen. The doctor was older, his face lined with only some light gray hair lingering on his balding head. His wrinkled right hand tightly gripped a cane the he leaned heavily on for support, and on his left hand was a gold band that seemed to gleam brightly even in the minimal lighting. He took a few steps closer, but he didn't get too far before he began to falter, and Bao stepped forward to grip his arm to steady him.

Definitely not an intimidating specimen. The billionaire gazed at the doctor's legs, seeing that he seemed to be heavily favoring the left one. How easy it would be to overpower him and escape when the right opportunity arose. But he also knew that there had to be more to him than met the eye, for he couldn't have just been a frail old man and somehow accomplished all this. There had to be something more to him in order for him to have this much respect and obedience from those who did his dirty work. The persuasive tone in the little he'd heard of his voice, the gleam of that ring, the sharp look in his eyes... yes, there was something dangerous there, something that made him more powerful than he appeared. Deadly, even. He'd have to be cautious, play his cards right.

But there was something far back in his mind, something buried that seemed to be trying to dig its way out. There was something familiar about this man, something he knew, but for the life of him, he couldn't place it...

The doctor smiled at Bao, acknowledging his help with a brief nod of his head. "Ah, yes, thank you, boy," he said cheerfully. "I just want to get a little closer, get a better look at our guest here... There we go."

Tony watched as the Steve Rogers cosplayer led the older man forward a little bit until they both came to a stop across the basin from him, immediately feeling uncomfortable by the way the doctor's gaze seemed to be able to pierce right through him, straight to his very soul. It took every fiber of his being to keep from struggling against the unseen captors behind him.

"Ah, yes. You're looking a little rough around the edges there, Mr. Stark. But you've grown into a strong, able young man, I see," the Doctor muttered thoughtfully, almost to himself as he studied him closely. "Handsome, very much like your father. Yes, you've grown quite a bit bigger than the last time I saw you. You were only a wide-eyed boy then..."

 _His father..._

 _... wide-eyed boy..._

This billionaire had to focus on keeping his breathing even as he kept his gaze steady on the older man's. _Don't give him anything._ He could simply be lying, trying to get into his head even more, make him doubt the little solid foundation he still had under him.

Or...

"You knew my father?" Tony asked, relieved his voice didn't crack nearly as much as he'd expected it to as he attempted to keep any of his turbulent emotions out of it. "You knew me?"

The doctor smiled, and though it appeared to be an attempt at friendliness, it was a near miss. There was something sinister in that look, something he didn't like at all. "Why, yes, Howard and I knew each other quite well, back in the day," he answered. "It was always a pleasure to see you when he brought you to the agency with him. You were such an intelligent boy, so eager to learn more about what the world had to offer..."

Tony's brow furrowed. "You worked with S.H.I.E.L.D.?" He was certain his captor had never worked for Stark Industries, his father would never had had someone of his caliber under his employ. But, he'd thought, neither would Nick Fury. Something about that didn't settle right with him at all.

And it apparently didn't settle well with the doctor either, since he simply laughed in response. "S.H.I.E.L.D.? Such a pathetic organization," he muttered, mainly to himself. "No, Mr. Stark. I helped to infiltrate S.H.I.E.L.D., to show the world how fallible it really was."

The billionaire's heart jolted. "You're Hydra? I thought we eradicated whatever was left of your merry band of criminals."

This seemed to amuse the doctor greatly as a broad grin broke across his face, his eyes gleaming. "You were mistaken, Mr. Stark," he told him. "Yes, you took out quite a bit of what remained of our once glorious organization when your friend Ms. Romanoff unleashed all those S.H.I.E.L.D. files to expose us, and when you and Captain Rogers caught Strucker in Sokovia." Tony couldn't help but notice the bitterness, the resentment, in which he talked about Natasha and Steve. And himself.

"But cut one head off a snake, and another two will grow in its place," the older man continued. "Monsters are real, Mr. Stark."

Tony smirked. "I stopped looking for the boogeyman under my bed when I was five."

"Then clearly, you stopped looking too soon." The doctor smiled, a look that almost resembled pity crossing his lined face. "You've dealt with plenty of monsters, haven't you? You experienced many traumas in the three months you were in captivity in Afghanistan, no? And let's not forget that harrowing ordeal in New York..."

The snarky look slowly vanished from Tony's face as his jaw tightened. He could already feel his chest beginning to constrict at the very thought of the Chitauri invasion, the wormhole he'd thrown the nuclear bomb through...

He felt himself quietly beginning to gasp for air he felt was much too scarce. No, he couldn't allow his mind to go there... he couldn't panic now... _Give him nothing_...

The older man quickly rose his cane a bit before bringing the bottom sharply back to the hard floor, the sudden sound bringing the billionaire out of his racing thoughts. He took a few deeper breaths, forcing himself to remember where he was and just who he was dealing with. He couldn't afford any more distractions if he wanted to come out on top in this situation.

"I see that we have a lot to work on during your stay in my care," the doctor continued. "That's all right. Your father did, as well, and we made do." He paused briefly when Tony's body tensed. "I'm going to make you an offer, Mr. Stark. A way to avoid any further punishment. Are you interested?"

Tony remained silent as he stared down the older man, keeping his gaze defiant. He had an idea of what this supposed offer would consist of, and he had no interest in that whatsoever.

However, the doctor didn't appear to be dissuaded as a grin began to spread across his face. "I indulge you to hear me out, nonetheless. As we've already discussed, our numbers have significantly dwindled thanks to the efforts of you and your friends. But with my efforts, we are rebuilding. We could use a mind such as yours in this process, Mr. Stark. Your intelligence and talents would be most helpful."

A moment passed before the billionaire leaned forward a bit and spit at the doctor's feet. "Go to hell," he hissed.

His captor simply laughed. "I cannot say I'm surprised," he muttered. "Your father had the same response when I first made him the offer, as well."

Tony's eyes narrowed. If there was one thing he could say for certain about Howard Stark, it's that he would never join the ranks of Hydra. "My father would have died before he would ever work with you," he snapped. "And so would I."

"Do not be so certain, Mr. Stark." The doctor's smirk returned, and Tony felt an undeniable surge of dread. "The human mind is a fallible thing. It can only be pushed so much before it breaks. Your father, dear boy, was no different." He then glanced at the two unseen captors behind him and nodded once, gesturing to the basin.

The billionaire braced himself as the hands that held him roughly began to shove him down toward the merciless cold water yet again. But once more, he was spared when the door of the small room crashed open.

"Doctor Fennhoff! I got a call that you need to hear about."

 _Fennhoff_. Tony immediately grasped the name and filed it away in his mind for safe keeping. It was one that he recognized from all the Hydra files he'd been through, and if he remembered correctly, Johann Fennhoff was a higher ranking official that had always seemed to elude them, mainly because no one could seem to agree on if he was alive or not. He'd hid behind different aliases, and he thought he recalled that the good doctor depended mostly on psychologically torturing his unfortunate victims.

That would certainly explain all that had happened to get him to this point.

Appearing annoyed, Fennhoff gestured for Arsen to join him and Bao, and Tony watched as the Bucky Barnes ripoff hurried over before whispering something anxiously in his ear. The doctor's irritated look vanished, being replaced with one that appeared to be a mix of anger and wonder. The older man appeared thoughtful for a moment longer before he turned to the billionaire, a gleam in his eye.

"There has been an... unexpected development," he announced. Despite the dread he felt, Tony attempted to keep his face blank. "It appears as though your once dear friend, Captain Steve Rogers, has been spotted searching for you, Mr. Stark."

All of the color drained from his face as blood rushed in his ears as Tony stared back at his three captors. _Steve_? Searching for _him_? No. That wasn't possible... There was no way. The other man was in hiding. He wouldn't risk that by looking for him...

Not after what had happened between them...

"Change of plan." Fennhoff's voice rose a bit, addressing everyone in the room. A slight smirk appeared at the corner of his lips as he kept his gaze on the billionaire. "Let's re-set up the camera. I believe there's a message that our dear Captain needs to hear."

* * *

Peter fidgeted with the strap of his backpack hanging heavily on his shoulder, staring blankly ahead at the elevator doors as he and Happy made their way toward the top of Avengers Tower. He glanced at the head of security, seeing he was also staring straight ahead, before looking away.

It had been a bit of an awkward car ride after the whole Winter Soldier debate, and he felt as though he had many more questions than when he'd started. While he was sure that it was the super assassin he'd seen on top of the building, who'd shot Tony, he was beginning to have some serious doubts about whether or not that was true due to Happy's insistence that it was impossible. He was frustrated since he didn't understand what was happening, why someone would go out of their way to dress up like the Winter Soldier to go after him and Tony, but there had to be some reason behind it. And Happy wasn't telling him what it was.

And then the new psychologist at school... Fennhoff, he thought his name was. There was still something really wrong about him. He'd almost told the head of security about him on the way to the Tower, but he wanted him to find out more about him, if he could, before he did that in case it was nothing. No reason to give other people a reason to look at him like he was crazy.

"So, is this becoming, like, a normal routine?" the fifteen-year-old wondered, breaking the silence. "I come here after school?"

Happy glanced over at him, a hint of annoyance in his features. "Yes, at least for the time being," he replied. "At least until..."

Peter arched an eyebrow when the man's sentence trailed off. "Until?" he prompted.

"Until I say so, okay?" Happy rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath about teenagers. His younger companion simply smirked.

Finally, the elevator came to a stop, and the doors slid open with a quiet _ding_. The first thing Peter saw when he and Happy stepped out was Pepper sitting on a nearby couch. In her lap was a small shih ztu with a pink ribbon in its fur. She looked up from her fuzzy companion and smiled when she saw them.

"Hi, Peter, welcome back," she said.

A broad smile appeared on Peter's face as he began to walk toward her, hearing Happy groan quietly from behind him. "Oh, no, you went through with it?" the latter wondered.

But then, the teen slowly paused when he realized that they weren't the only three in the penthouse, the CEO's cheerful response going unheard. Because on the floor not too far from Pepper sat Sam Wilson, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he pored over a screen of some sort. On another couch sat Vision, who appeared bemused to see him. By the bar stood Rhodey with Natasha Romanoff, and while her short hair was now blonde, there was no mistaking her.

And standing by the massive window as he gazed out at the city far below was Captain Steve Rogers. The full beard he had was startling at first, but again, there was no one else it could be.

"Whoa... holy shit," Peter murmured to himself as all pairs of eyes turned to him, Happy chuckling from behind him.

Falcon. Vision. War Machine. Black Widow. Captain America.

He knew he'd have to tell Ned about this as soon as he got the chance. Because for the second time in his young life, he was in the presence of the Avengers.

 **Author's Note** : All right, that's it for this one! So, next chapter, things start seriously going down with everyone coming together... After all, Homecoming for Peter's coming up ;-) So, not gonna lie, I was inspired by a recent interview I stumbled across where the team for Infinity War said that Bucky and Steve were Skyping during their time apart and just HAD to include it (since it's too great not to include). We probably won't see too much of him, though, as he'll be in Wakanda, but Steve will sometimes need a little help with staying on track. I think that's about in on my end. Hope you guys liked the chapter. It shouldn't be nearly as long of a wait for an update next time around. My deepest apologies again for that, guys. See you next time!


	14. Chapter 14- Homecoming, Part One

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit. I also don't own the lines taken from _Spider-Man: Homecoming_.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Hey, guys! I apologize for the wait. Real life and out of town family have kept me really busy, and not much time and/or energy for writing. I also had to figure out what I wanted to do with the homecoming scene from _Homecoming_ since, unlike the movie, this isn't going to be Peter's defining heroic moment (it'll happen, I promise. Just not at this point since Vulture isn't the main villain in this story, and we still have quite a bit to go here. Just stick with me, it'll happen!), and the fight with Vulture isn't nearly so dramatic like it is in the movie. So this homecoming part starts similar to the movie, but then it changes pretty drastically, I promise. I also had to figure out a good place to split this chapter since it got ridiculously long, and I figured two installments would be easier than the monster chapter this was turning into, lol. So, this is part one of the homecoming part. Part two is also finished, and it will be posted in one week from now! So, with all that said, I hope you enjoy! Thanks for keeping with me and for all of your reviews, favorites, and follows! They keep me going :-)

 _Chapter 14– Homecoming, Part One (Or, "That Awkward Moment When Your Date's Dad is a Wanted Criminal")_

Peter found himself sitting on the couch– Pepper on one side, Rhodey on the other, with Happy standing behind them– facing down none other than Captain America, Black Widow, Falcon, and Vision. He wrung his hands nervously, glancing at the small dog who was curled up and napping on the CEO's lap.

"So, yeah, uh... that's all there really is to know about me," he muttered. The awkwardness of explaining to all these heroes who he was, what his powers were, how and why he was sitting in the Avengers Tower right now, and everything in between hung heavily over him like a weighted blanket. All his life, he'd dreamed of being on this super team, but never had he expected it in this sort of situation.

Steve leaned forward a bit. "So, you're the Spider-Man? The kid from Queens?" he asked.

"Y-yeah, that'd be, uh... that's right." Peter swallowed, remembering their interaction from the airport in Germany. "And you're the... uh, the kid from Brooklyn."

The teen inwardly groaned as soon as he said it. _That was stupid, Peter. Why'd you do that?_

However, whether he found something endearing about what had slipped out or he was just trying to be polite, the Captain smiled. "That's right," he replied. But then, he sighed. "I could tell you were young when we met at the airport. But I didn't know you were _this_ young..."

Peter felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "Look, I know... I know I'm young, okay?" he snapped, not able to hold back the frustration at this entire situation any longer. Why did everyone have to treat him like just because he was fifteen, he couldn't handle the responsibilities thrown at him during an important mission? Like he wasn't worth it? Like he was somehow more fragile? "But I've had these powers for a couple years now, and Mr. Stark chose me because he saw something in me. And before anyone says anything, I know most everyone else on the team thought he was crazy for doing so. He told me, okay? I get it. And... I know he also tried to take the suit since I _really_ messed up by going after the guy with wings on that ferry alone, but... I had to prove to him that I _can_ do this, that I can be one of you. I _still_ have to prove that, and I can't do that if I can't do _anything_..."

The teen paused with a sigh, seeing everyone was still watching him with rapt attention. "The only reason I still have this suit is because we were ambushed by... _somebody_ before Mr. Stark had the chance to take it. I feel like I've been given a second chance to prove myself. And I have to help find Mr. Stark. He might..." He paused, reluctantly glancing at Pepper. "He might be hurt because of me..."

There was a long moment of silence where none of the Avengers said a word. The web-slinger looked at each of their faces anxiously, though their faces betrayed nothing of what they could be thinking.

Finally, Steve gave him another small smile. "Don't worry, kid," he said. "None of us think you had anything to do with what happened to Tony down by the harbor. We're just not sure why you're being blamed, but we'll get to the bottom of it."

Peter met his gaze, his brow furrowing in distress. "Yeah, but... It still might be my fault... He made me leave that building, and–!"

"That's just how Tony is," Steve told him, his features softening with sympathy. "Believe me, that's not your fault. I can guarantee you that Tony doesn't blame you. He would want it this way."

The fifteen-year-old knew the Captain's sentiment was meant to make him feel better, to ease his guilt. But for some reason, it made him feel even worse.

"We're just concerned that with all this negative news coverage blaming you, you being out and about where you could be spotted may not be the best thing," Sam added. "You wanna lay low for a while. Not draw attention to yourself."

Peter slowly nodded, feeling as though it was some sort of gentle rejection from helping out the team. But no matter what they said, he had to help them look for Tony, he just _had_ to... "I was there," he told them in a last ditch effort to get them to listen to him. "I was up on that building, too... And I'll keep remembering more. I can provide details you guys probably couldn't get anywhere else..."

Steve and Sam exchanged glances while Vision continued to silently watch the discussion. Rhodey sighed, glancing over at Happy and Pepper as they all shared concerned looks. Natasha glanced down at the tablet on her lap, which was running some sort of program.

The teen's heart sank.

"Look, kid, we're not saying that your help wouldn't be valuable," the assassin finally said, looking back up from the screen momentarily. "We definitely do want to talk to you about everything you remember from that ambush. I know you're certain of some things you saw, but as some of those things are impossible, we'll have to work to figure out what's real and what isn't."

Peter sighed. "I know, but..."

"We do want you to help us," Steve spoke up, causing the web-slinger to look at him with disbelief and a flicker of hope. "Because we know how much you care about Tony, and we could, quite frankly, use your help. Actually being a part of that ambush is invaluable. What we're saying is that we just have to be careful about it. Not just because of the news coverage, but also because we don't know who these people who ambushed you are or what they could want. We don't know if you're still at risk."

That thought caused Peter's heart to skip a beat, but it was quickly replaced by a feeling of excitement that swelled up inside him. Captain America _wanted his help_. It was something he'd wanted to hear for as long as he could remember. A dream come true. "R-really...?" he breathed, hardly daring to hope it was real.

Steve nodded. "Yes," he confirmed. "As long as you promise us to be cautious and that you won't take any unnecessary risks. We're a team for a reason."

"Y-yeah, I promise!" the teen said excitedly, causing both Sam and Rhodey to chuckle. "Thanks!"

The Captain laughed a little himself, conceding with a slight nod. "We just need to find a starting point," he muttered. "Any sort of lead. Tell us more about this guy with wings."

Something told him that Steve was hiding something when he mentioned searching for leads, Peter knew it. What it was, he wasn't sure. He arched an eyebrow, thinking about his own certainty about seeing the Winter Soldier on top of that building before it exploded, how he'd been the one to shoot Tony. He remembered how he was the Captain's friend...

Before he could say anything, however, a quiet beeping came from the tablet in Natasha's lap. She glanced back at the screen, a triumphant smile appearing on her face. "Hey, Pepper, I found something," she spoke up. "Finally. That was a lot of files to go through..."

Pepper's eyes widened as she stood with Lily and hurried over, sitting beside the blonde woman on the couch. The latter turned the tablet's screen in her direction, showing her an ID card picture.

"Does this man look familiar to you at all?" the assassin wondered. "According to your files, he was in charge of the clean-up crew after the Chitauri invasion before the team from the Department of Damage Control Tony brought in."

The CEO leaned closer to the screen, squinting a bit as she read the name. "Adrian Toomes..." she muttered, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "It was so long ago... but the name does sound familiar. I think I may have spoken to him on the phone once or twice..."

"I don't know if he's behind dealing the Chitauri weapons or not, but he would've had good opportunity to get his hands on some of the materials. And had possible motive because of losing his job," Natasha continued. "Even if he isn't behind the operation, or isn't the guy with wings, he could've easily helped get things started."

"Do you have an address?" Pepper asked.

Neither woman noticed Peter wander up to the couch to curiously look at the tablet between them. When his gaze landed on the smiling face on the screen, he gasped loudly and gripped the back of the cushions so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"That's him!" he exclaimed when they both turned to look at him, Pepper with slightly wider eyes. "That's him! I saw him on the ferry! He was with the other arms dealers, the ones who got arrested. Karen didn't have any criminal record on him, but I'm almost sure he's the guy in charge. The one with wings! He escaped from the ferry with one other guy, I think..."

"Sounds like we found our man." Natasha turned back to the screen. "Here's the address listed."

Both Pepper and Peter leaned closer to see, but the latter's eyes widened as he took a step back. The CEO glanced back at him with her brow furrowed. "What is it, Peter?" she wondered.

The fifteen-year-old shook his head briefly. The slip of paper in his back pocket suddenly felt pounds heavier. "I know that address," he muttered. "But... no, it doesn't make sense... It can't be..."

Pepper and Natasha exchanged curious glances. "Do you know who lives there?" the latter pressed as she turned back to the web-slinger. "Any information you have will be really beneficial to us."

Peter took a deep breath before he swallowed. "Yeah... my date for homecoming on Friday," he told her. "That's... her dad?"

Sam let out a low whistle. "Damn, that sucks..." he said. "And I thought _my_ first homecoming date was awkward..."

Rhodey arched an eyebrow as he glanced over at the other man. "As interesting as that would be to hear about..." he began, causing Sam to grin.

Steve worried his bottom lip between his teeth in thought. He then glanced at the web-slinger, who appeared as though he were still trying to wrap his mind around this turn of events. "You want to be part of this mission, kid?" he asked.

Peter looked back at him, any uncertainty immediately fading back into excitement. "Yeah, of course!"

The Captain smiled. "Then here's what we'll do."

* * *

Peter stood in front of the door of the counselor's office, his mind racing. He found himself wishing that the regular lady was there, for even though he'd never used her services, she seemed nice enough.

This replacement guy, though... He wasn't so sure. What was frustrating to him was it seemed like he was the only one who could see that something was... a little off about him. He seemed nice and like he cared about people, almost like a grandfather would, and like someone that one normally wouldn't give a second glance to. Sure.

But there was just... _something_ not quite right about him. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it was there. His senses were practically screaming whenever he was around the man. He just didn't know what they were trying to warn him about.

Not to mention, those from his academic decathlon team who'd already seen the counselor seemed a bit... off. Nothing major, as most people didn't seem to notice their change in behavior. Peter knew he probably wouldn't have even noticed if it hadn't been for his heightened senses.

Flash, while still making obnoxious comments about him, wasn't doing it with as much gusto as he usually did and couldn't seem to look him in the eye. Liz almost seemed a little skittish, her laugh seeming a little forced. The only one who seemed to not be affected was Michelle, but knowing her, she probably just skipped the session, feeling like she didn't need it.

Honestly, the web-slinger would've done the same thing if he thought he could get away with it without getting in even more trouble. He couldn't risk missing the homecoming dance, especially now that Captain America had given him a part in this mission to take down Toomes and his operation. Since he couldn't be completely sure who'd had a hand in the ambush up on top of that building because of the hallucinogenic gas– since everyone kept telling him it was impossible that it was Bucky Barnes, even though he was _so sure_ that he'd seen him– he couldn't _not_ say that Toomes' hands were clean in what had happened to Tony. It was still a possibility. So by him helping to take down Toomes, they could potentially have their first real solid lead to finding the billionaire. Or, at the very least, they'd be getting a dangerous criminal off the streets.

So, here he was. Standing in front of this pretty much unknown psychiatrist's office, just wanting to get the session over with but not wanting to go in. At least it was during his free period, if he had to find a bright spot. And maybe he could find out more about this guy, find out why he was setting his senses off all the time...

Peter than quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket when he felt it vibrate, seeing a text from Ned had come in. He couldn't deny he'd hoped to see something from Happy or Pepper or Rhodey or someone, something that could have gotten him out of this appointment...

 _Wait... so the dude with wings is LIZ'S DAD?! Dude that's so crazy! Ur gonna stop him right? Like you said she told u he was bringing you guys to homecoming. Dude! This is ur chance! And DUDE! I'll be ur guy in the chair! Every hero's got one. Dude this is gonna be awesome!_

Sighing, Peter sent a quick text back.

 _Sure. Talk more at lunch. Busy._

The fifteen-year-old knew his best friend would wanna help him catch Toomes if he'd told him about who he actually was, and he knew he'd somehow get involved even if he hadn't told him. So, he figured the best way to keep Ned somewhat safe was telling him that Toomes was the guy with wings and that he'd be trying to to help take him down. That way, he could at least hopefully keep somewhat of an eye on him, and maybe he really even could have used the other teen's help, even though he knew he was getting some Avenger backup.

Peter raised his gaze to the door in front of him again, taking a deep breath. _May as well get this over with..._ He quietly knocked a couple times before grasping the handle, pushing open the door as he stepped into the counselor's office.

He wasn't sure what he expected, but as he glanced around at the interior of the office, he found that it wasn't too far off from what he thought a psychiatrist's office would look like. A few motivational posters– one, he found with amusement, that had Captain America on it– along with what looked like some framed degrees Fennhoff had earned over the years hung on the wall. He turned his attention to the desk across the room from him, seeing that it was neat and orderly– a pen holder, desk calendar, a mini zen garden, and the almost stereotypical device that had five metal balls hanging from strings on it.

But the psychiatrist himself was absent.

With a sigh, Peter approached the desk and dropped his backpack in the chair in front of it. He looked at the device with the hanging balls, lightly picking up the one on one end before releasing it. He watched as the ball on the other end swung out before sending the momentum back the other way, causing the ball he'd initially grabbed to move. His eyes followed the back and forth movements for he wasn't sure how long, finding it to be almost hypnotic...

"Oh! Mr. Parker. You're early."

Snapping out of what almost felt like some sort of a trance at the sound of the accented voice, the teen gasped as he reached out with his quicker reflexes without thinking and grabbed the metal ball he'd initially swung to stop the momentum before he turned to look over his shoulder. Johann Fennhoff was standing in the doorway with a small, friendly smile on his face. He was leaning on his cane with one hand, holding a steaming mug of coffee in the other.

If he'd noticed anything weird, he didn't say anything about it.

"I'm, uh, I'm sorry," Peter mumbled, awkwardly turning to face him. "I should have, um, waited..."

To his surprise, Fennhoff chuckled lightly. "Nonsense. There's nothing wrong with being early," he said. He took a few steps further into the room, the door closing behind him as he made his way toward his desk. "I'd just stepped out to get some coffee from the teacher's lounge. And, well, as you can see, it takes me a while to get anywhere."

Peter nodded, noting the problem his leg seemed to be giving him. But even still, his senses were once again _screaming_ at him. He just had no idea why they would be. The old man truly didn't seem like he could be much of a threat...

"It's all right," he finally replied with a quiet clear of his throat. "No problem. I haven't been here long, so..."

Fennhoff's smile returned as he made it to his desk, setting the mug down next to his calendar before he lowered himself into the cushioned chair behind it. He then looked up at the fifteen-year-old, giving him an almost studying look. "It doesn't take someone in my profession to tell how uncomfortable you are," he muttered good-naturedly, gesturing to the chair across from him with a wrinkled hand. "Go ahead. Take a seat, relax. We're just going to have a little chat today. Just to get to know each other a little better. Nothing major."

"Oh, yeah... Um, thanks." Peter tried to return the look as he moved his backpack to the floor before taking its place in the chair. He leaned back, resting his slightly fidgeting hands in his lap as he looked at the psychiatrist expectantly.

"So... you said that you yourself weren't in the elevator when it got stuck and nearly fell with the team inside while you were in D.C., is that correct?" Fennhoff asked, taking a notepad out of one of his desk drawers.

Peter nodded. "Right," he answered. "I saw it all from the ground..." He sighed. "I'm just glad that... that Spider-Man showed up when he did and managed to get my friends to safety before anyone got hurt."

"Hmm." Fennhoff peered up at him. "Yes, your friends have mentioned Spider-Man in their sessions with me, as well. They've also mentioned that... you said you know him?"

The fifteen-year-old nodded. "Yeah... I do," he confirmed.

"And how did that happen?"

Peter hesitated. "I met him through the Stark internship," he finally told him. "Good dude. I, uh... I don't believe what they're saying about him on the news."

Fennhoff nodded thoughtfully as he made a couple quick notes in his notepad. "That is mainly what I wanted to discuss with you today," he told the teen. "As we've already briefly mentioned, I imagine these news reports about Mr. Stark and your friend Spider-Man must be distressing for you. What with Mr. Stark missing, and your friend being... according to you... wrongfully blamed for the incident. Which, in the notes I received from your teacher on the day you were first supposed to visit me, caused you to have a panic attack in her class, am I correct?"

"Y-yes..."

With a nod, Fennhoff set his pen aside and took a cautious sip of his still hot coffee before he leaned forward, locking eyes with the student. "Tell me about your internship and your friendship with Mr. Stark."

Peter took a deep breath, glancing at the clock on the wall. Couldn't it move any faster? The ticking echoing loudly in his ears was going to drive him insane. _Well, Mr. Stark randomly showed up at my apartment, knowing I was Spider-Man, and recruited me to help stop Captain America... but he recently tried to take my suit from me since he's not sure I deserve it, which I'm currently not sure of, either, and he might be dead because of me..._

"Well... I applied for the Stark internship not too long ago, and I was lucky enough to get it," he explained instead, pushing the thoughts that had come dangerously close to coming out back down. There was just something about the psychiatrist's voice... "It went well until.. well, until he disappeared. I thought I was going to lose the internship for a little bit there, but his CEO took over. Said she wants me to still be in the program..."

Fennhoff leaned back in his own chair. "You must be very concerned about him," he said quietly.

The teen nodded, lowering his gaze. "I am," he agreed. _What if he hadn't gotten off of that rooftop...?_

"You must feel like you're close to Mr. Stark," Fennhoff continued. "After having worked with him like you have."

Peter looked back up after a moment, hoping to keep his face as impassive as possible. "Yeah, I... I think so," he murmured. "He's taught me a lot, and... he's helped me out quite a bit."

Fennhoff nodded, mainly to himself. "You're fortunate to have him as a mentor," he replied, leaning forward on the desk. He absently twirled the gold band around his left ring finger, drawing the fifteen-year-old's attention. "If I remember correctly from your file, Mr. Parker, your father died when you were very young, am I right?"

No matter how much he tried, Peter couldn't move his gaze away from the ring's shine. Warnings were going off in the back of his mind, but he couldn't really hear them. "Yeah... my parents died in a plane crash when I was a kid," he told him, his tone a little flat. "I don't really remember them. But that's why I moved in with my aunt and uncle."

A small, sympathetic smile appeared on the psychiatrist's face. "And then your uncle, Ben Parker, was murdered about eight or nine months ago, correct?" he wondered. "Tell me about that."

Distress crossed Peter's face. The vision of his smiling uncle when he and Tony had been up on the top of that building by the harbor before it had exploded flashed across his memory. He didn't _want_ to answer that. And yet...

"Uncle Ben and I were out together for a fun day. I think we went to see a movie, or something, I don't remember, exactly... We were walking to the subway to come home, and a man robbed a woman's purse. My uncle went after him to stop him, but... the thief shot him... before the man ran out into the road... He didn't get away, though... a car hit him, I think... I tried to help him... my uncle... but they both died before the rescue squad could get there..."

 _And then I became Spider-Man... to stop that from happening to anyone else..._

Fortunately, he managed to keep that thought from spilling out.

"I'm sorry to hear it," Fennhoff said, twirling the band again. Slowly. "It sounds like it's a trauma you haven't really worked through fully... We'll work on that. But you have some fond memories with your uncle, yes? If I remember from some of the things I've seen in your file, you first met Mr. Stark because of your uncle, yes?"

A tear leaked from the teen's eye before he realized any had formed, and he quickly blinked the rest away before wiping his cheek with his sleeve. "Yeah... that's right," he muttered. "Uncle Ben took me to Mr. Stark's Expo when I was a kid. He signed my toy Iron Man mask that day. He knew Mr. Stark was my hero, I'd written him so many letters. And then when Uncle Ben took me to Hammer's Expo, Mr. Stark saved me from one of the suits that was going to kill me since I was wearing that Iron Man mask. But I doubt he remembers any of that..."

"What makes you say that?" Fennhoff asked curiously.

Peter shrugged. "It was a long time ago," he answered. "He got fan letters from a lot of kids, mine probably got lost in the shuffle. He's not going to remember signing one mask for one kid when he's probably signed thousands. And with as many people as he's saved, he's not going to remember one kid's life he saved, either."

Fennhoff stopped twirling the gold band, and the fifteen-year-old blinked drowsily, confusion crossing his young features. "It appears, Mr. Parker, that you've grown attached to Mr. Stark as your mentor since you've had other important male figures in your life taken away from you," he commented. "He's filling an important role in your life because of that. It's a loss that we'll work through in any follow-up sessions that your principal, aunt, and I think may be necessary. You've kept these traumas close to you all this time, though you haven't really addressed them. And that will be a productive step forward for you to sort out some of your concerning behavior as of late that Morita has mentioned to me. I'm hoping for the best in this incident with Mr. Stark, but should the worst news come out, I believe that will be something else to be addressed. We can work on your panic attacks involving your concern for him in the meantime. How does that sound?"

 _More sessions_? Peter dreaded the thought. But if May knew that they were supposed to happen, and wanted them to happen, she'd kill him if he didn't follow through. It was self-preservation alone that caused him to nod in answer. "Y-yeah... sounds good," he replied despite how lost he felt.

 _What had they just talked about that needed to be worked on?_

His senses tingled. Something wasn't right...

Fennhoff smiled. "Good." The look broadened when he heard the low sound of the teen's stomach grumbling, causing the latter to chuckle nervously. "I believe that is enough for one day. You don't want to be late for lunch."

Peter smiled back awkwardly, trying to push his concerns aside. He didn't want to appear suspicious. "No, definitely not," he agreed. "Sorry about that..."

"Not a problem. Go enjoy your lunch hour," Fennhoff told him. He watched as Peter stood from the chair and grabbed his backpack before heading for the door. "Until next time, Mr. Parker."

"Bye." Peter offered a quick nod before he opened the door and hurried out into the hall. He couldn't get out of that office fast enough.

Fennhoff's smile lingered until the door shut behind the fifteen-year-old. He then reached over to the mini zen garden, switching off the micro recording device hidden under the first couple layers of sand.

"Yes," he murmured under his breath, hiding his smirk behind another sip of his coffee as his gaze traveled to Captain America's smiling face on the motivational poster. "Until next time, Mr. Parker."

* * *

When Adrian Toomes opened the door of Liz's house on the night of homecoming, Peter was ready for it.

Or, at least, he thought he was.

But knowing who was behind all the alien tech-based weaponry– and possibly had something to do with, or could have at least known, what had happened when he and Toy had been on top of that building by the harbor– and being face-to-face with the guy who was running around the city looking like a demonic vulture were two completely different things. He hadn't necessarily expected him to be the one to open the door. He hadn't expected to see him so early in the operation.

And, though he hated to admit it, he was flustered.

 _Head in the game, Peter... You wanted this. You wanted a big mission more than anything. And now you've got one. Cap himself had enough faith in you to do this. And, like, that's_ huge _! You can't mess this up. You're kind of an Avenger now, and the Avengers are counting on you not to freak out. Mr. Stark's counting on you... You have to show him you deserve this suit. Head in the game. Don't freak out, Peter... You got this._

But what was he supposed to _do_ , exactly? Waltz in and say, "Hey, your daughter looks really pretty tonight. I'll have her home by, say, ten? Oh, and by the way, you're under arrest for making and selling illegal alien weapons. And where's Tony Stark?"

The teen inwardly berated himself. _Wow, Peter, that was dumb... Get it together, c'mon!_

Though, granted, Steve hadn't really given him much to go on when he'd told him that he could have a part in this mission. Just go to the dance with Liz and get Toomes alone. He'd have backup for the rest since they couldn't take any chances of him escaping, just in case the man did know anything about Tony's disappearance. Simple enough. He'd just have to go with the flow and figure out a way to do just that when they got to the school.

 _Stay cool, Peter..._

If Toomes noticed any of his racing thoughts, or the red and blue suit he felt he was obviously wearing under his tuxedo, he didn't show it as he instead gave him a welcoming smile. "You must be Peter. I'm Liz's dad. Put 'er there."

He held his hand out toward him.

Peter gazed at it for a moment before he reached out and grasped it. Tightly. Not breaking eye contact.

 _You're goin' down._

Toomes seemed amused. "Hell of a grip!" Not releasing his hold on his hand, the man started to pull him inside. "Come on in here. Come on..."

Inside the house, Peter thought, was even rougher than those few minutes at the door. Toomes had to notice he was acting weirdly, or something, he _had_ to. But other than commenting on how pale he looked, and teasing him about having an alcoholic beverage, he didn't say a word about it. Not as he intentionally got his name wrong to his wife, not when they were complimenting Liz on how beautiful she looked in her pink dress, not when Liz basically had to tell him to give her the corsage he'd bought for her, and not when they took a couple of awkward pictures before they left in Toomes' car since he said he had an errand to run anyway.

Something wasn't right. Peter could feel it. He _had_ to know that something was up. It was so obvious to him...

The car ride, if possible, was even more awkward. The fifteen-year-old tuned out most of the conversation, keeping his gaze on the guy with the wings in the rearview mirror before moving it out the window to the night outside as Liz took a couple pictures of herself from the seat beside him.

His eyes narrowed slightly when he thought he noticed a small red and black device hovering a few feet above the cars below, seeming to be tailing them. _Redwing_. Which meant backup wasn't far behind.

But then, Peter was pulled back into the conversation when Toomes directed a question at him about what he was planning on doing after he graduated high school.

"Oh, um... I don't, I don't know..." he stuttered.

But Liz came to his rescue. "Peter has an internship with Tony Stark," she said, almost sounding proud. Though her small smile wavered as soon as she said it, and her brow furrowed. "Oh, well... I mean..."

"I... I still have it," Peter supplied, attempting a smile of his own. "Just, uh, with his CEO instead."

"Really? Stark?" Toomes asked, glancing back in the rearview mirror at him. Peter bristled slightly. There was something about his tone he didn't necessarily like. It almost sounded... _taunting_. "It really is such a shame what happened to him... But I'm sure you've heard all about that, and hell, probably know more about it than the rest of us do. What do you do for that company, Pete?"

Peter studied the older man's face in the mirror, trying to read anything he could in his expression. But it was mostly smooth while showing some genuine interest, giving nothing away. It unsettled him. "Oh, uh, well... you know," he muttered. "Stuff around the Tower. Whatever she needs me to do, really... Tech stuff. I'd help Mr. Stark directly with things sometimes."

 _Keep it cool, Peter..._

Toomes raised his gaze to his again. "Must be hard, hearing about what happened to him and not really knowing for sure _what_ happened," he said. "I'm sure you're worried."

"Yes. Of course." There was a look in the man's eyes eyes he couldn't quite read, but it caused his heart to skip a beat. _What was he getting at?_ Maybe... maybe Toomes was somehow responsible for what happened on top of that building after all?

"So, what do you make of those reports that the, uh... the Spider-Man is responsible for Stark's disappearance?" Toomes wondered as he turned onto another street. "That's who you like so much, isn't it, gumdrop?"

"I don't believe he did it," Liz spoke up, glancing up from whatever she was looking at on her bright phone screen. "Peter said the same thing, and he'd know."

The fifteen-year-old's stomach dropped.

Toomes raised a curious eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? Why's that?"

"I... well, I..."

"Peter gets to hang out with Spider-Man through the internship," Liz explained. "He knows him pretty well."

His jaw clenched tight, Peter watched Toomes carefully as he raised his gaze to the rearview mirror yet again. There was something like curiosity... no, _suspicion_... in his eyes. He curled his fingers into a fist. _Not good_.

"Really?" the older man asked lightly. "Wow... what's he like?"

Peter attempted to keep his breathing even. If Toomes wasn't on to him before... "Yeah, he's nice," he answered, his voice catching ever so slightly as he looked away. "Nice man. Solid dude."

"Hmm." Toomes did a double take in the mirror. "I've seen you around, right? I mean... somewhere. We've, uh... Have we ever? 'Cause even the voice sounds..."

That was it, Peter was sure of it now. Toomes knew that something was going on, who he was, everything. He _had_ to... Or, at the very least, he had to strongly suspect something. He glanced out the window to where he'd seen Redwing before, but the drone was nowhere in sight.

As Liz jumped to the rescue yet again, telling her dad that they were on the decathlon team together, the teen didn't feel any better. He could almost see the wheel in Toomes' head turning, putting pieces of a puzzle together. If he hadn't gotten to the big picture yet, it wouldn't take him long.

Especially when Liz started lightly teasing him about how he tended to disappear from parties and when they had been in D.C. He awkwardly bantered back with her, trying to downplay her claims, but with every word, he could see that Toomes was getting steadily closer to figuring out his secret.

The older man came to a stop at a red light, letting out a quiet sigh as he briefly shook his head. "That was terrible what happened down there in D.C., though," he muttered, glancing back at both teens. Though his focus was on Peter. "Were you scared?" When he saw the fifteen-year-old's slight nod, he continued, his tone dropping to a level Peter didn't like. "I bet you were glad when your old pal Spider-Man showed up in the elevator though, huh?"

Peter glanced at Liz beside him before turning back to Toomes, unsettled by how the glow from the red light illuminated his face. "Yeah, well I... I actually didn't go up. I-I saw it all from the ground," he told him. Toomes continued to stare at him intently through the rearview mirror. He stared right back. "Pretty lucky that he was there that day."

The light turned green, reflecting off the older man's face as a knowing gleam appeared in his eyes. "Good ol' Spider-Man," he murmured, a slight grin spreading across his lips.

A feeling of dread crept up from the back of Peter's mind, sending a chill down his spine. _Toomes knew his secret._ He _knew_ he was Spider-Man. There was no doubt about it. That wasn't part of the plan, he wasn't supposed to know so soon... But what could he do about it now?

 _Keep it together, Peter, breathe... Remember the plan. You still got this..._

Liz looked between Peter and her father curiously, not seeming to notice the intensity behind their stare down. A car horn blared from behind them. "Dad," she prompted with a note of impatience. "The light."

Toomes' grin broadened ever so slightly before he turned his attention to the road ahead of them, pulling through the light.

Peter took a deep breath as he attempted to calm his racing heart, settling back against the seat as they drew closer to the school. He finally had the mission he'd so desperately wanted, and _needed_ , in order to prove himself. In order to show the rest of the team that he belonged there. Captain America had entrusted him with this. But already, he felt as though things were spiraling in a way they weren't supposed to. What if he was getting in over his head after all...?

 _"If you're nothing without the suit, then you shouldn't have it."_

Tony's words from shortly before they'd been ambushed, from when he had tried to take his suit from him, came back to him then. Perhaps... perhaps the billionaire had been right...

But deep down, Peter knew that wasn't the case. He was worthy of the suit, he just had to prove it. To convince himself and everyone else. Tony may have been taken, had been _hurt_ , because of him, but this was his chance to show what he had to help get him back.

 _Keep to the plan... This is just a small setback... Keep to the plan, Peter. You got this..._

But as the bright lights of the school came into view, the teen couldn't help but feel as though he was walking right into Toomes' metallic claws.

* * *

 _The shield was pulled with a jerk out of the Arc reactor in his suit..._

 _"That shield doesn't belong to you..."_

 _The man in the red, white, and blue hesitated..._

 _"You don't deserve it..."_

 _The man in the red, white, and blue shared a look of regret with the man he was supporting, the one who'd just lost his metallic arm..._

 _"My father made that shield!"_

 _A bruised and bloodied Howard Stark was grabbed roughly by a metallic arm before being pulled out of sight..._

 _The man in the red, white, and blue paused with a heavy sigh..._

 _The shield hit the hard, snowy ground..._

 _Steve._

Tony gasped as his eyes snapped open, groaning as he tried to move his stiff body. He shivered slightly, his dark shirt still wet from the recent water boarding. It took him a moment to remember that no, he wasn't back in that cave in Afghanistan, as much as Fennhoff and his merry bunch of costumed goons were trying to bring him back there. One quick glance around told him that he was back in that small, dark room that he'd first woken up in.

He passed a slightly shaking hand over his sweat-drenched face. He tried to forget the feel of the ice cold water consuming his senses, his lungs burning with the need for breath...

No. He wasn't there. That cave was far behind him.

If he could just remember that... if he could just keep himself centered... then he could focus enough on getting himself out. He could beat this doctor's twisted game.

But it was something Fennhoff had said that stuck with him now. Something that had brought him back to a more recent time he'd been left for dead. To another _betrayal_ by someone he'd believed he could trust.

 _Steve._

Even now, Tony wasn't sure if he could have possibly heard Fennhoff right. The man was a known manipulator, a man who relied on attacks on the mind and psychologically destroying those who dared to oppose him. He'd read the file on this particular high-level Hydra agent many times over the years since aligning himself with S.H.I.E.L.D., almost like it was a compulsion since the moment he'd seen Fennhoff's name. Though he never understood why he kept returning to that particular file ever since it had been made available to him. Sure, he was as frustrated as any of the other agents that the doctor had never been caught by the agency, or even by the Avengers. But his _need_ , his near obsession, to scour the file whenever he could went further than that. There was something buried deep in the back of his mind, something that had been attempting to claw its way out of the recesses of his memory, back again ever since he'd been in the old man's captivity. He just had no idea what it was, or how to find out. And while he remembered nearly ever word of that file, he didn't think the answer he'd been searching for was in there.

But... _Steve_?

That had to be some sort of trick... right? _Steve_ couldn't possibly...

No. It had to be a trick. A tactic by Fennhoff to give him false hope of rescue. By telling him that _Steve_ had been spotted, that _Steve_ was looking for him, it would make him feel that maybe, just _maybe_ , he'd be getting out of there after all. Too bad the old man didn't know how that would actually work against him. If only he'd known just what had happened in that frozen Siberian wasteland...

At that, Tony's heart slowly sank as his breath hitched. Because, he realized... Fennhoff _did_ know.

From the very beginning, the doctor had been feeding him images and reminders of the secret that had changed his life, and of those who had played a role in it. Sure, he'd brought him back to that cave in Afghanistan with the Ten Rings flag, the car battery, the water boarding. But up on that rooftop... Arsen had dressed like Bucky Barnes to attack and to bring him to his hideout. He'd watched the man kill Howard. And now that he was in this place, Bao dressed like Captain Steve Rogers to help his Bucky counterpart...

There was no doubt in his mind that Fennhoff knew all about Siberia. The question was _how_.

Unless Zemo...

Tony shook his head. He'd figure that part out later. There were too many other things that demanded attention, and his brain felt like it was about to explode. But if the doctor knew that telling him that _Steve_ had been spotted wouldn't give him a sense of renewed optimism...

Was the other man _actually_ around? Was he _actually_ looking for him? Fennhoff seemed almost pleasantly surprised by the news when he'd heard it. So maybe... it _wasn't_ a trick?

At that moment, he didn't know what possibility was worse. A trick he could handle. But the possibility of actually being face to face with _Steve_ after... Sure, he kept the flip phone the other man had sent him after what had happened in Siberia, just in case it was needed for some reason, but he'd never been able to call him, to reach out to him, on it... He didn't know if he could ever do it...

Why would _Steve_ want to save _him_?

But then, his hazel gaze rested on the vents above him, and dread flooded through him when he saw the fine mist filtering through into the room. _The gas_. How long had that been happening? He'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts, he couldn't say for sure...

A blue glow not too far away caught the corner of his eye then, and Tony turned to see his Arc reactor was lying on the floor a few feet away from him, flickering ever so slightly. His heart nearly stopped, his hands anxiously pawing at his chest as his eyes widened. How long had _that_ been out? He needed to get it back before...

He couldn't breathe... his chest hurt... sweat began to break out on his forehead... he felt lightheaded...

The billionaire started pulling himself along the ground toward the Arc reactor, toward salvation. He was so close, yet he felt so far... How had he _not_ noticed before now...?

Something in the back of his mind slowed his pace, and Tony paused, confused. Wait... hadn't he had all the shrapnel _removed_ from his chest...? So the Arc reactor... It was something he didn't need anymore...

He let out a quiet sigh of relief, letting his head drop to rest on his arms as he willed his heart rate to slow to normal and his breathing to settle. He was okay. He wasn't going to die at any moment because shrapnel was going to tear his heart to shreds. He didn't need the Arc reactor. Not anymore...

But yet... The faint pain in his chest felt... _real_. It didn't happen often, but ever since he'd had the surgery to remove the pieces of shrapnel and basically the giant hole in his chest that had held the Arc reactor, he'd had minor chest pains that had come and gone. It never lasted long, it had never gotten too serious. But still, it was something that happened. Especially lately, with all the stress from the matter of the Accords, the chaos surrounding Bucky Barnes, _Steve's_ betrayal... It was all taking its toll, and he knew it.

Maybe... maybe the Arc reactor would help...?

 _"See this? That means I'm here. As long as you see this, you know I'm alive..."_

Tony's eyes narrowed. He remembered saying those words, but he couldn't quite recall to who. Or what he was talking about. He raised his head, his gaze lingering on the soft blue glow of the Arc reactor, feeling as though that light was important.

 _"As long as you see this, honey, you know that I'll always find a way to come back to you..."_

 _Pepper_. That's who he'd been talking to, he was sure of it. And that soft glow of the Arc reactor, that light... that meant he was alive. That he'd get back to her...

He had to keep going.

Deciding that doing something was better than nothing in that moment as that slight pain in his chest briefly flared again, Tony pulled himself along a little bit further before he paused and reached out for the glowing blue sphere.

Suddenly, he let out a pained cry when a large, heavy boot came down on his hand. He thought for sure he'd felt a couple of bones crack in his fingers before the foot was lifted off him, and he pulled his hand close to his chest in a protective way. He then watched, wide-eyed, as the same boot came down on the Arc reactor, crushing it completely as its light died.

Then, he grunted when a fist grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and lifted him off the ground easily. Tony struggled for a moment before he stopped, his stomach dropping and his face draining of color when he found himself looking back into the familiar, cruel grin of Obadiah Stane.

"Hey, Tony. Remember me?" the bald, broad-shouldered man– once his father's best friend and business partner, his own godfather– asked with a chuckle. "You may have gotten out of that godforsaken cave when you weren't supposed to all of those years ago... that was my bad, I didn't expect you to build something that would end up saving your ass, I should have planned better... but this time..." He paused, his grin broadening. "This time, you won't be so lucky. Boss said no mistakes this time."

Tony's heart raced as he resumed trying to fight out of Obadiah's iron grip. "Boss, huh? You mean Fennhoff?" he wondered, attempting to keep his tone light. "Since when were you someone's lapdog, huh, Obie?"

The punch to his ribs robbed the billionaire of breath as the healing gunshot wound throbbed with pain, causing him to stop struggling as he coughed forcefully. Solid hit... The man was _real_...

But how was that possible? Obadiah was _dead_...

"Oh, you'll pay for that one, Tony," Obadiah murmured. "You're going to die here, all alone. And your little friend? Captain America? Steve? When he finds your broken body, he'll be next."

 _... Steve..._

 _... Please don't find me..._

 _... Not you, too..._

A small smirk appeared at the corner of Tony's lips. "You don't have the set to do something like that yourself, Stane," he said, hoping his tone sounded as confident as he tried to make it. "Not without someone to get their hands dirty for you... Not without a suit."

To his surprise, the other man let out a boisterous laugh, causing his false self-assurance to falter. "You willing to bet on that?"

 _... Steve..._

 _... I'm sorry..._

Tony's eyes narrowed back at him as he continued to gasp for breath. But before he could say another word, Obadiah's larger fist wrapped tightly around his throat.

 **Author's Note** : I really don't have a defense for this last part... But the second part of this homecoming part (along with everything else) will be posted one week from now! So there won't be a long wait to see how this turns out. Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Until next time!


	15. Chapter 15- Homecoming, Part Two

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit. I also don't own the lines taken from _Spider-Man: Homecoming_.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Hey, guys! Thanks for your reviews, follows, and favorites! I'm glad you're enjoying this story! There will certainly be more craziness to come. One little note, I figured it'd be safe to announce a couple other pairings now since almost all the characters have been introduced, and those are Clint Barton/Laura Barton and Wanda/Vision. Just didn't want to spoil which characters were ultimately going to make an appearance in the beginning, lol. I think that's about it... So I won't keep you any longer! Enjoy homecoming, part two!

 _Chapter 15– Homecoming, Part Two (Or, "That Awkward Moment When Your Date Night Ends in a Fight")_

When they pulled up in front of the school, Peter saw that blue and yellow balloons had been tied on the stair railings and near the doors for decoration and that groups of students had already gathered in excited groups, comparing dresses and taking pictures. He wished he could join them. He'd give anything to get out of that car and forget all about Toomes and the weapons and the attack on him and Tony.

But he couldn't. He had a mission.

"Here we are!" the older man addressed cheerfully. "End of the line."

Liz grinned as she leaned forward and rested her hand on her father's shoulder. "Thanks, Dad!" She then took off her seatbelt and started to reach for her door, the excited look lingering in her eye. Peter didn't budge.

Toomes returned the look as he glanced in the rearview mirror. "You head in there, gumdrop. I'm gonna give Peter the, uh, the _dad talk_."

Peter stiffened, every sense on high alert. He'd expected this. And while it undeniably made him a bit nervous, he also knew this could be his chance. He just needed to get Toomes alone...

Liz sighed, a brief look of mild exasperation crossing her face as she turned to look at Peter. "Don't let him intimidate you," she told him before turning back to the older man with another smile. She leaned forward and left a kiss on his cheek. "Love you!

"Love you, too, gumdrop," Toomes replied, his own smile lingering as he watched his daughter step out of the car and hurry over to a group of her friends. He then casually reached into his glove compartment before turning to face the fifteen-year-old, draping his right arm over the back of the passenger seat.

In his hand was a handgun.

Peter froze, his gaze lingering on the weapon as the light caught the metal. He was so used to the metal wings and the arsenal that came along with them that something this simple caught him off guard.

But at the same time...

 _His uncle let go of his hand, beginning to run away from him down the bustling sidewalk..._

 _"Uncle Ben, wait!"_

 _A loud gunshot echoed in his ears as the people around him began screaming..._

 _His uncle was lying on the sidewalk, his white t-shirt stained crimson, as the thief who'd shot him tried to escape through the crowd..._

 _"Uncle Ben..."_

 _His own hands were stained crimson as he frantically tried to help his uncle... but no matter what, it wasn't enough..._

 _His uncle stood on the rooftop across from him, a smile appearing on his handsome face as he held a hand out to him..._

 _"My uncle, he's right there... We_ have _to help him!"_

Peter's face paled. His hands started to shake slightly.

Where were these memories coming from all of a sudden...?

"Does she know?"

It took the teen a moment to register the question Toomes was asking him, and he swallowed as he forced himself to look away from the weapon and meet the older man's gaze. "Know what?" he asked quietly, feigning innocence. Though he knew it was pointless. The older man knew everything.

Toomes appeared to stare right through him, confirming his theory. "She doesn't. Good. Close to the vest." He briefly paused, nodding in what seemed to be approval. "I can admire that. I've got a few secrets of my own..."

Peter watched as the older man shrugged with a smile, all the while just trying to focus on keeping his own breathing even and trying to control the trembling in his fingers.

Toomes turned serious again, regarding the fifteen-year-old carefully. "Peter. Nothing is more important than family. You saved my daughter's life. I could never forget something like that, so I'm going to give you one chance. Are you ready? Walk through those doors, you forget _any_ of this happened, and don't you ever, _ever_ interfere with my business again. 'Cause if you do, I'll kill you and everybody you love. I'll kill you dead. That's what I'll do to protect my family, Pete. Do you understand?"

The teen lowered his gaze to where his hands, still unable to stay still, were resting on his lap. He didn't say a word, though he knew that Toomes would understand that yes, he definitely understood what he was saying.

Whether he'd follow what was being said was what he couldn't guarantee.

"Hey," the older man spoke up. "I just saved your life. Now what do you say?"

Peter slowly raised his gaze back to Toomes', locking with his. He took a deep breath, hoping his voice wouldn't shake as badly as the rest of him. "Thank you," he murmured, and he hated that it wavered just ever so slightly.

Toomes nodded. "You're welcome," he replied. "Now, you go on in there, you show my daughter a good time. Okay? Just not too good." He smiled slightly, nodding in the direction of the school before he turned to put the gun away.

But Peter didn't budge, even though the firearm was now out of sight. He tried to push the painful memories of what had happened to his uncle that had resurfaced back down since he knew he had to focus on what was ahead of him now. He had a mission, after all. He glanced outside his window at the parking lot, and his heart leapt when he noticed Redwing hovering not too far away from their car.

Show time.

Setting his jaw, the teen turned back to Toomes. "Sorry, but I can't do that," he said, willing his voice to remain steady. This time, it did.

The older man paused, glancing back at him in the rearview mirror. "What did you say, Pete?"

But before either one of them could say or do anything more, they were both thrown forward when another car bumped them from behind, a loud _crunch_ echoing in the parking lot. Peter grunted as he bounced off the seat in front of him before landing on the floor while Toomes whirled angrily around to glare out the back windshield. The headlights were so bright that nothing could really be seen, however, and he cursed heatedly under his breath as he turned back around, put the car in drive, and started to head for the parking lot exit.

The fifteen-year-old looked around him, able to tell by the glow from the headlights that whoever had hit them was following them. What was going on? That wasn't part of the plan... And why wasn't the older man confronting the other driver? "Hey, uh, I'm still back here..." he muttered.

But Toomes didn't so much as glance at him as he continued to drive. "You're the one who said you couldn't leave," he said nonchalantly, his eyes continuing to dart to the rearview mirror to keep tabs on the second car.

The older man knew the other driver, of that Peter was pretty sure. But that didn't make him feel any better. This _definitely_ wasn't going according to plan. He had to get out of there, he had to regroup.

Gritting his teeth, the web-slinger reached up and grabbed the door handle, feeling a rush of cool air before he jumped out of the back of the moving vehicle, tucking his head as he landed in a roll. He didn't get far before he came to a stop, quickly looking up to see that they were already out of the parking lot and on the street in front of the building, so at least most the other students hadn't seen his escape. He watched the two cars continue along before turning into an alleyway and disappearing from sight. Redwing followed at a safe distance. If Toomes noticed his abrupt exit, which he knew he'd _had_ to, he certainly didn't seem to care.

Though he still wasn't sure what had happened, he wondered if it had anything to do with the "errand" the older man had said he'd had to run. If so, whoever he seemed to be meeting certainly wasn't very patient.

 _Could it be a weapons drop-off? Could he catch him in the act?_

That would be _perfect_.

Peter was brought out of his thoughts when his cell phone began to ring. A quick glance at the screen told him it was Ned, and he immediately answered the call. "What?"

 _"Dude, so Liz is in here, and she's super pissed because she's thinking you maybe stood her up or something? But, dude, I thought, like, we were supposed to, you know, stop her dad? Remember, like we planned? The hero and the guy in the chair? Where are you?"_

"I'm uh... I'm tracking Toomes," Peter said. "I think that errand he's supposed to do is a weapons drop. We can totally catch him! He's heading into the alley that leads into the back parking lot of the school. Meet me there."

 _"Got it!"_ Ned replied in the affirmative. _"Dude, this is so exciting! Helping you in a mission like this. Better than this dance, anyway. Finally, you and me, hero and the guy in the–!"_

But Peter hung up, slipping his phone into the pocket of his pants as he ran for the alley that Toomes and their mystery pursuer had disappeared down. He felt bad about leaving Liz, especially knowing that she was mad at him since she thought he'd bailed, but wasn't that all part of being an Avenger? Heroes had to make tough choices, and sometimes sacrifices, for the greater good. It wasn't always easy. He'd make it up to Liz if he could, if she'd give him another chance since this was something he couldn't tell her about. But it had to be done. Stopping her father's illicit activities, trying to get these dangerous weapons off the street, and _hopefully_ getting some sort of lead on Tony's disappearance were all more important than a school dance.

Once he was sure he was out of sight of the other students, Peter pulled off his jacket and black dress shoes before slipping out of the pants and starting to undo his tie and the buttons of his white shirt, revealing his spider suit underneath. Once the mask and gloves were on, he stashed the tuxedo behind some garbage cans to return for later before dashing off after Toomes.

"All right, Karen. Talk to me. Anything you can pick up from these guys?"

 _"I'm picking up one life form, one that matches the information you've given me on Adrian Toomes,"_ the electronic voice informed him.

The teen skidded to a stop. _Just Toomes_? But there'd been two cars... "Are you sure about that, Karen?" he asked. "There should be another one."

 _"Yes, Peter. Only Toomes is detected. I am not picking up on any other humans."_

Well, that made no sense. If this was a weapons drop off, there should be another person there to pick up them up.

Right?

"Okay, well... um... Any reading on some alien tech?" he tried.

 _"Yes. There's a source nearby."_

Once he reached the end of the alley, Peter effortlessly jumped the fence separating it from the school's back parking lot, almost eerie with all the unused school buses sitting around idly. Almost like a transportation graveyard.

Frankly, he was surprised some students hadn't slipped out from under the supervision of the teachers and chaperones to hide out back here. And where was Ned? He should've beaten him here...

The web-slinger spotted Toomes' car with the vehicle that had followed them from the parking lot in the back corner of the lot across from him, parked side by side. There was no sign of Redwing. Using his webbing, he swung between the buses until he got close enough, perching on the side of the vehicle closest to the scene. He peeked his head around the front of the bus, seeing Toomes speaking quietly in what appeared to be heated tones to a man wearing a black leather jacket and a green bandana who he couldn't see the face of.

What he did notice, however, was the older man was wearing the jacket he'd come to associate with the costume he wore during heists, through the beaked helmet was tucked under his arm and the metallic wings were still hidden.

A prickling sensation ran down Peter's arms. Something wasn't right here. Toomes appeared ready for a fight... not an arms deal. And there were clearly two people, so why could Karen only pick up one? And still, there was no sign of Ned.

"Karen, can we hear what they're saying?" Peter whispered. "Stealth mode, or whatever it's called? I don't like the look of this..."

 _"Sure thing, Peter,"_ Karen said. _"Activating Enhanced Reconnaissance Mode."_

"That's what it is..." Peter mumbled to himself. "Gotta remember that, Peter..." But then, he tuned into the conversation they were eavesdropping on.

"Look, I don't know what game you're playing here, but I'm done with it, and I've got an appointment to keep," Toomes was saying angrily. "I know you've been following me from the house. To show up here is unacceptable. Now, I don't know who the hell you are or what the hell you want, but I suggest you get the hell out. Or else you'll regret it." The older man quickly pulled part of his jacket aside, revealing what had to be one of his crafted weapons since it wasn't the handgun he'd threatened him with before.

The second man didn't say a word.

So it did sound like Toomes did have some some sort of arms deal to make, but this certainly wasn't it. Of course it wasn't. Why would he do something like _that_ so close to his daughter's school? That was stupid.

So then... what was this? Did that mean the other guy had _forced_ him here?

Toomes narrowed his eyes, clearly losing any patience he had left. He opened his mouth, probably to offer another verbal lashing, but before he could, hurried footsteps and quiet whimpering drew closer.

 _"Two more life forms detected,"_ Karen announced.

"Yeah, Karen, I can hear them..."

"Sorry I'm late, boss," a man Peter recognized from the ferry, the one who Toomes had taken with him when he'd escaped, said as he approached. "Would've come as soon as you called, but while I was scouring around to make sure the spider kid wouldn't interfere like you thought he might, I found _this_ brat sneaking around." He shoved the rounder, black-haired student forward.

The web-slinger's heart raced, recognizing his terrified expression immediately. _Ned_.

"D-don't hurt me," the other teen stuttered. "I... I don't even know what's going on here..." His wide eyes landed on Toomes. "I... I won't tell anyone about... y'know... about the cool tech or anything, Mr. Birdman, I promise..."

Peter sighed, his fingers pressing harder against the cool surface of the bus. _God, Ned, just shut up already..._

Toomes spared Ned only a brief glance before turning to the other man working with him, exasperated. "Why'd you snatch this kid?" he asked.

The other man shrugged. "Well, now we know he knows about the weapons!" he answered in his defense.

"God, you're such a–!"

"I'm here for the boy."

Both Toomes and his helper stopped bickering at the sound of the mysterious third man's smooth, quiet voice as they both turned to look at him. Even Ned quit his sniveling.

"Boy?" the former repeated. "What boy?" But then, realization dawned in his gaze. "You mean _Peter_?"

Dread rushed through Peter. What did this guy that Karen couldn't seem to detect want with _him_? And would Toomes give him up? He couldn't take that chance.

"All right, I've gotta do something before this gets out of control," the fifteen-year-old muttered, mainly to himself. "Before Ned or anyone else gets hurt."

 _"Be careful, Peter,"_ Karen cautioned. Was it just his imagination, or did even the AI sound concerned?

No time now to worry about that. He had a mission to bring down Toomes to complete. And if he had to take care of these other two first, so be it.

Peter aimed his web blaster at the man in the black jacket and green bandana– the one who apparently wanted him– and fired. The web wrapped tightly and securely around him in the blink of an eye, but to his surprise, the man didn't even budge or try to break free.

Toomes gave the trapped man a startled look before wildly searching for the source of the attack as the man who worked with him did the same. Ned, though still in immediate danger, grinned broadly.

" _Yes_!"

Peter then leapt off the side of the bus, landing crouched on the ground near the other four. "All right, guys, cool it," he said, pointing at Ned. "The kid goes free. I'm the one you want. We don't need anyone getting hurt here."

Toomes slowly shook his head, seeming to be disappointed by the interruption. "You should have taken my offer and not interfered, kid..."

It didn't escape the teen's notice that the older man didn't use his name when he easily could have.

Peter rose to his feet. "I can't let you sell any more of those weapons," he told him. "Not when they make the streets so unsafe. Plus I need you to tell me whatever you know about Tony Stark's disappearance."

What could only be described as confusion crossed Toomes' face, and Peter found himself hesitating. Maybe he truly didn't know anything after all...

Before he could dwell on it, the web-slinger quickly turned to the older man's helper, seeing he had the charger he wore on his hand all charged up and trained directly on him. "Ned, run!" Peter yelled, right as the man shot an electric charge in his direction. He managed to roll out of the way of the blast, but he cursed when he saw the man had a tight hold on Ned's shoulder with his free hand. His best friend wasn't going anywhere.

Then, the fifteen-year-old quickly turned to Toomes, seeing his helmet was on and the metallic wings had unfurled as he started to take to the dark skies. He immediately sent another web at him, watching as it wrapped tightly around his ankle. He grit his teeth tightly as he was roughly yanked off the ground as Toomes ascended.

No, he couldn't let him get away...

Toomes looked down, sighing with frustration when he saw that Peter was steadily scaling the web toward him. "I told you to leave well enough alone!" he called down to him.

But Peter shook his head as he kept climbing, despite the older man's erratic movements in attempt to shake him off. "No! I can't do that!" he yelled back.

"Look out!"

The web-slinger looked down at the sound of Ned's warning, seeing the other man had sent another shock wave in his direction. He used his momentum to swing out of the way, watching as the blast came very close to striking Toomes' left wing instead.

"You _idiot_!" the older man shouted.

However, the shock was enough of a distraction, and Peter let out a panicked yell as Toomes sliced through his web, sending him toward the hard ground below. He grunted as he landed in a roll, pushing himself to a knee as he considered what to do next in this two-on-one situation. He noticed he'd come to a stop right beside that mysterious third man that no one seemed to know, the one who still hadn't attempted to get free of his webs.

The teen looked up, curious to see his face for the first time...

... and froze.

No... _no_... impossible... it was _impossible_...

 _A man in a black leather jacket and green bandana bumped into a young woman next to where he and his uncle were walking along the bustling sidewalk, suddenly taking off running into the crowd ahead of them..._

 _"Help! He took my purse! Stop him! Thief!"_

 _He only got a quick glance at the man's face, briefly noticing the thin goatee and long scar set in his right cheek, before he disappeared into the crowd..._

 _Ben let go of his hand, taking off after the man..._

 _"Uncle Ben, wait!"_

 _A gunshot..._

 _People screaming..._

 _His uncle bleeding under his hands as his life slipped away..._

 _The dark-haired thief sent a cruel grin back in his direction as he darted out into the road..._

 _The sound of a car horn blaring and the loud squealing of tires filled the air..._

Peter could only stare up at the man next to him, his eyes wide beneath his mask and his palms sweating in his gloves as he started to tremble. The thin goatee, the long scar set in his right cheek, the cruel grin...

This was the man who'd murdered his uncle.

 _"Accelerated heart rate detected,"_ Karen said, but the teen hardly heard her. He couldn't breathe. His chest hurt. He couldn't think. A thin line of tears formed in his eyes. The man didn't even have to say a word, and _yet_...

But... it was _impossible_. Though he hadn't seen it himself, Peter remembered how the EMTs and police officers who'd been called to the scene told him that the thief who'd stolen from the woman and had shot Ben had died when he'd tried to flee the scene, having been accidentally struck by a taxi.

So... how could he be _here_ , giving him that same cruel grin as he had about nine months before...?

Then, Peter screamed in pain when a shock wave from the charger hit him, sending the electric jolt through his whole body and causing him to crumple to the ground. He tried to catch his breath, though his vision swayed before him as he tried to push himself to his knees.

The web-slinger looked up in time to see the man with the charger quickly approaching him, dragging a horrified Ned along with him. But before he got too close, something so small and moving so quickly he could hardly see it struck the man in the neck, sending an electric shock through his own body. The man stumbled away from the other teen, his hand at his neck.

Ned then watched in wide-eyed amazement as a slender, blonde-haired figure leapt off the top of the nearest bus, landing directly on her target's shoulders. She wrapped her arms around the man's neck and her legs around his torso, effortlessly bringing him to the ground. He only had time to let out a startled cry before he was knocked out by a well-placed punch to the jaw. The woman then rose to her feet, not having even broken a sweat, and Ned chuckled nervously.

"Whoa... Black Widow! You're, like... _so_ much hotter in person... Even with the different hair color... More badass, too... That, uh, that vest looks good on you..."

Natasha Romanoff glanced down at Ned, arching an eyebrow, before she quickly made her way over to where Peter was still struggling to sit up. "You did good, kid," she muttered, crouching down next to him. "You all right?"

The teen continued to tremble, both from the shock he'd received and from the panic attack he was trying to hold off, but he managed to nod in silent answer before quickly looking around him. "The man... get the other man..." he mumbled.

"Toomes?" Natasha raised her gaze upward, a hint of a grin appearing on her face. "I wouldn't worry about that."

But to her surprise, Peter reached out for her, grasping her arm tightly. The assassin's eyes widened as she unconsciously flinched, nearly tearing her arm away. Though somehow, she managed to fight the instinct. "What..."

"No, the _other_ man." The mask retracted to reveal Peter's panicked face, and he gazed at her imploringly as a couple tears escaped from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. "Please... The one in the leather jacket... the green bandana... Don't let him get away again..."

Natasha looked back at him, feeling uncomfortable. The kid's face was so pale, his gaze so pleading... She managed to give him a small smile. "He got away when I was helping your friend over there," she told him. "But don't worry. We'll find him, I'm sure. Who was he? Someone else who worked with Toomes?"

Peter let her words sink in for a moment before he shook his head, a quiet chuckle escaping from him. "N-no... Never mind," he muttered. "He's just... I don't know, a ghost or something... I can't explain it..."

The assassin wasn't sure what else she could say, so she lightly patted him on the shoulder and eased his hold on her arm until she could carefully pull it out of his grasp. She glanced over her shoulder when hurried footsteps drew nearer, watching as Ned dropped to the ground next to the other teen.

"You okay, Peter?" he asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

Peter took a moment before he nodded. "Yeah... yeah, I'm fine," he answered with a sniff, his voice steadier than it had been before when he'd completely freaked out on Black Widow. Hopefully that would be an incident neither one of them spoke about again.

Ned let out a long sigh of relief. "Okay, good. Because I tried warning you about that shock, but you were just, like, I don't know, in your own little world, or something, when you saw that weird guy..." He stopped rambling as his gaze once again landed on Natasha. "Oh, hey... So, I'm Ned, by the way. Ned Leeds. Peter's best friend. His guy in the chair."

Natasha briefly narrowed her eyes in confusion before accepting his introduction with a brief nod. She then rose to her feet and took a few steps away from the two friends, touching the communication device in her ear. "Okay, Sam, bring him in," she said.

 _"Yes, ma'am!"_ Sam replied. _"Incoming!"_

Natasha quickly looked up as both Peter and Ned did, all watching as two entwined figures in a mass of tangled limbs and metallic wings fell toward the earth. She backed up closer to cover the two teens as Toomes crashed to the ground with a grunt of pain, Sam Wilson landing gracefully a couple feet away shortly after.

"There's only room for one dude flying around with metallic wings in this town, baby!" the latter announced with a grin, raising his red-tinted goggles to sit on top of his head. "And that would be _me_."

The assassin rolled her eyes as she then approached Toomes where he had come to a stop, reaching out with her foot and pushing him onto his back so she could get a better look at him. "End of the line, pal," she muttered as Sam joined her on the older man's other side. "You're going away for a good long time for making and selling those alien tech weapons. But maybe we can make some sort of a deal if you help us out now."

Peter shared a glance with Ned from where they were still seated a few feet away from the other Avengers. "Help me up," the former muttered anxiously. "I've gotta be a part of this."

Ned looked back at him a bit hesitantly. "Are you sure?" he wondered. "I mean, you're not looking so good Peter... Like, it looks like you'll, like, either pass out or be sick on me or something if you stood up right now..."

The web-slinger glared at the other teen. "Yes, I'm sure. C'mon, Ned, this is my job..."

"All right, all right, fine..."

It took a minute– and for a couple seconds, Ned was afraid he was right and Peter _was_ either going to be sick or pass out on him– but Peter was finally, unsteadily, on his feet. His best friend lingered close beside him, ready to lend a hand if necessary, as they made their way over to where the older man was being interrogated.

"Yeah? And what do _you_ want to know?" Toomes spat, glaring up at Natasha.

"What happened to Tony Stark?" she asked, unfazed, as Peter and Ned joined them. She ignored their presence while Sam cast them a curious look. "Where is he now?"

Toomes shook his head as he chuckled quietly. "Look. I'm not a fan of Stark's, but I'm sure you already know that," he answered. "Would I like it if he were out of my hair? Of course I would, he took my job away from me. I had to do what I had to do to be able to provide for my family. But I _didn't_ hurt him. I got the hell outta there after he showed up at the ferry." He paused, glancing at Peter next to her. "News says your little spider kid did that. Though if I'm being honest, he doesn't strike me as the type. So, I know it's not what you want to hear, but I have no idea what happened to your precious Stark, or who has it out for him."

Sam sighed, turning to Natasha. "Well, at least we got a criminal off the streets, right?" he wondered. "Silver lining?"

The assassin shrugged. "But we still have no leads on Stark."

Peter took a couple steps closer to Toomes as the two older Avengers continued to speak in quiet tones with each other. "That man you were talking to... who was he?" he pressed.

The older man looked back at him and shrugged. "I don't know, kid, he wasn't one of mine," he told him. "And he wasn't the client I was supposed to be meeting tonight. He followed us to the school from our house. Forced me to pull over back here. He didn't say anything other than–!"

"He wanted me," the teen finished for him, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

Maybe it was a trick of his racing mind, but he swore he saw Toomes' eyes soften. "Seems like you have a better idea of who he is than I do," he muttered. "Look, Pete. Whoever that was, I have no idea, I swear."

Peter met his gaze, remembering how the older man could have easily given up his identity to... whoever that man had been. But he hadn't. Which made him believe him. With that thought in mind, the teen gave him a small, shaky smile.

But that still didn't answer the question of why Karen couldn't seem to pick up anything on that guy, or why he looked so much like...

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing. His eyes narrowed, Peter looked around in confusion until he watched Natasha pull a small flip phone out of her vest pocket, stepping away from them as she answered the call.

"Yeah?" The assassin paced a little as she listened to the voice on the other end. "Steve, speak up, I can't... Wait, what? What news report?"

The Captain's next words caused her to come to an abrupt halt. Her eyes widened slightly as her face paled a shade, the phone slipping from her hand and bouncing off the hard ground at her feet.

* * *

Rhodey let out a gasping breath as he leaned back against the brick wall of the building, gazing out at the large spotlights that lit the dark harbor. Firefighters had finally managed to get the blaze under control, though it would still take some time to completely extinguish the flames. But with as manageable as the former inferno now was, and since the building showed no further signs of implosion yet, clean-up crews were starting to be called in to clear away the debris they could from around the harbor. Considering the circumstances, both the colonel and Vision had been called in to help the efforts, and he certainly wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to get a closer look at the scene to see if there were any more clues as to what had happened to Tony.

"Are you all right, Colonel?"

Sighing, Rhodey brushed the back of his hand over his glistening forehead as he turned to the source of the familiar accent. "Yeah, I'm fine," he answered with a slight nod. "Just need to take a minute." He stretched each leg out in front of him, one at a time, cursing under his breath when the left brace nearly froze up.

Vision regarded him for a moment. "Can nothing be done to ease the difficulty?" he wondered.

"Tony was going to work on them, but..." Rhodey's sentence trailed off as he looked away, squinting a bit in the heat still coming from the building above them. "I'll figure it out."

The android briefly nodded before he turned his gaze to the crackling flames. "I was going to clear some heavier debris that the crew was having some difficulty with on the other side of the building," he told him. "And perhaps see if I am able to find any leads on what could have happened here. Will you be–!"

"Yeah, Vision, go ahead," Rhodey cut in, waving a casual hand. "I'll be good. A couple people are being sent over to help in this area. I'll call if I need ya. Let me know if you find anything."

Vision lingered for a moment longer before conceding with a nod. "All right, Colonel. I will not be far."

Rhodey nodded in return, waiting until the other Avenger was out of sight before he leaned forward, closing his eyes as he rested his hands on his knees. His legs were getting sore, no doubt about that, but he couldn't afford to stop. Who knew what could be found if he kept digging? What if it was important? A clue about what had happened to Tony, or where he could be?

He couldn't afford to stop.

With a sigh, the colonel straightened up before he began pushing around a few more pieces of rubble, dumping the pieces into a plastic bin nearby. He glanced up when he heard footsteps approaching, seeing a couple men were being directed his way by a police officer he'd seen a few times before who seemed to be in charge of the squad that had been handling this situation from the beginning. He couldn't deny the relief he felt.

But as the two men– one wearing an olive green jacket who had a black ponytail while the other wore a jean jacket and had a bald head– got closer, Rhodey couldn't help but feel that something was a little... _off_. He couldn't quite place what it was, but there was something about their eyes that unsettled him, something that wasn't quite right.

He straightened up a bit further and squared his shoulders as he turned to face them when they approached. "I appreciate that you guys have come to help," he told them before he gestured to the area behind him. "I've got this part covered if you wanna start over there–!"

The first fist to fly at him was expected, and Rhodey raised an arm to block it from connecting with his face. But the force behind the strike surprised him, and he grit his teeth before curling up his own fist and connecting solidly with the dark-haired man's jaw.

However, the colonel hissed with pain as he quickly brought his fist back close to his body, startled when the man seemed completely unfazed by the hit. It certainly wasn't the first time he'd punched a man, so it unsettled him that the hit hadn't had any effect. But something about this one's face hadn't felt right.

Almost like it hadn't completely been flesh and bone...

Rhodey quickly backed up to avoid a second strike aimed at his head by his bald assailant, slipping a little on a spot of gravel. His mind was racing. Not only was there something not right– maybe not even exactly _human_ – about these two, but the entire situation just wasn't right. He thought about the police officer, one he'd recognized, sending these men over to what he'd assumed would be to help him, knowing that this whole thing had been some sort of setup this whole time. The implications that the officer may have been involved in any part of this didn't settle well with him at all, and he wondered just what had happened to Tony and how many people had some sort of role to play in it.

It seemed there was a chance it was even more expansive than they'd initially thought...

"All right, Vision, this may be a good time for you to come back," the colonel muttered under his breath as he grabbed the arm of the dark-haired man as he aimed another punch at him, shoving him with as much force as he could into a larger pile of debris. He watched as he landed amid the concrete and bricks, lying still for only a moment before he rose to his feet and brushed himself off with a sinister smile. As though nothing had happened.

His heart dropped. Yup, his attackers weren't simply human. There was no way...

Then, Rhodey threw an elbow into the neck of the bald man when he rushed at him from the side, wincing at the contact. While the other man stumbled, the blow didn't seem to faze him. Of all the times to not have his suit...

He was about to launch another strike when the first man's foot slammed into the back of his left knee, and the colonel yelled out as he collapsed to the hard ground. His breathing heavy, he grabbed his leg, which throbbed angrily with pain, before he attempted to scoot back from his two attackers as they slowly advanced toward him.

He was about to call out for the other Avenger– pride be damned, he wasn't stupid– when the bald man suddenly stumbled away from him, swatting anxiously at something he couldn't see. Rhodey's eyes narrowed in confusion as he watched him, the frantic actions enough to momentarily distract the dark-haired man as well.

But before he could gather the strength for another hit, he watched as an arrow whizzed past the head of his assailant, latching onto the wall right beside him. They both looked at it just as a sudden sonic pulse burst from it.

The colonel watched, horrified, as the man with the ponytail seized up, all of his limbs becoming stiff. He tried to walk forward, though it was like he couldn't get the motor functions to work properly since each step was clumsy and mistimed. He couldn't seem to control any of his movements. His jaw moved in a way that seemed to be on the verge of unhinged as his eyes blinked furiously, like his expressions couldn't be controlled. It almost looked like he was... for lack of a better word, Rhodey thought... _malfunctioning_.

Then, the dark-haired man finally stopped moving all together, collapsing to the ground. His eyes remained open and unseeing, resting directly on the man he'd been attacking.

Rhodey let out a deep breath as he tried to get it under control, still attempting to understand what had just happened. "What the hell...?"

"Well, I can honestly say that's _not_ what I expected to happen."

Rhodey quickly looked up at the familiar voice, watching as a brunette man with a mohawk dressed in a black and purple tank top and black pants with a bow in his hand approached. A smirk he knew all too well resided in his features.

"Miss me, Colonel?"

Despite himself, Rhodey let out a sharp laugh as he shook his head, a broad smile spreading across his face. "Never draw fire, it irritates everyone around you," he muttered.

The new arrival gave him a look of feigned disbelief as though he'd been dealt a great personal insult. " _Me_? Irritating? Why, I _never_..."

Rhodey's smile lingered as he chuckled and looked away. "Barton, you son of a bitch."

"Whoa, hey, careful there, man. I just saved your life." Clint Barton's smirk turned into a smile of his own before it faded as he turned to the lifeless man between them with a furrowed brow.

The colonel took a few more deep, steadying breaths. "How'd you know we were here?" he wondered.

Clint turned back to him. "Honestly, we didn't," he told him. "Nat called us in. We thought we'd try to get a look at the scene before we went to the Tower, just to get a better idea of what we're dealing with. Good thing we did, because we saw you getting your ass kicked."

Rhodey rolled his eyes as he chuckled. "I could've handled 'em," he said. "Just, uh..." He paused, glancing down at his braces with a sigh. "Something ain't right, man. With any of this. There's a big piece of this that we're missing, I know that. I just don't know what it is yet."

"Yeah, that's what Nat said, too."

"And then there's... _this_." Rhodey gestured to the dark-haired attacker lying on the ground in front of them with his foot. "Whoever... whatever... _that_ is..." He sighed, looking up at the archer. "I hate to say it, but I'm glad you're here."

Clint's smirk returned. "I missed you, too, man," he replied. Then, he held his hand out to him. "It's good to see you out and walking around, Rhodey."

Rhodey gazed at the proffered hand for a moment before he sighed, reaching out and taking it. He allowed the other man to pull him to his feet, cringing when his left leg nearly gave out from underneath him. Clint hurriedly reached out and steadied him before taking his arm and wrapping it around his neck to support him.

"Sort of, anyway..."

The colonel shook his head slightly, hating to have to lean against the other Avenger to stay standing, before he turned to the bald man, who still appeared to be freaking out as he tried to avoid something while at the same time trying to hit it away. His brow furrowed. "What's up with that one?"

Clint followed his gaze before he rolled his eyes in clear annoyance. "C'mon, Lang, stop playing around! This is serious, man."

"Lang?" Rhodey asked.

A moment passed where nothing happened. Then, the bald man froze up before collapsing to the ground, much like the first had. A couple seconds later, a man wearing a red and silver suit appeared, almost as though out of thin air.

"Oh, right..." the colonel muttered as the new arrival hurried over to them. "Tiny dude."

"So, uh, Clint? We have a, uh... a _weird_ situation here," Scott Lang said, removing his helmet and shaking out his dark hair. "With these dudes, I mean..."

"Yeah, that's what we figured," Clint replied, glancing down at the man by their feet. "What did you see?"

Scott took a deep breath as he pointed back at the bald one he'd taken out. "That man over there? Not a man," he told them, his eyes slightly wide.

Clint arched an eyebrow as Rhodey nodded slowly, both giving him a look that clearly expressed their desire for him to continue.

"Dude's a robot," Scott finished. "I basically just deactivated him."

"A robot..." Clint nudged the dark-haired man he'd gone after with his foot. "That would explain why he reacted the way he did to the sonic pulse. Though something tells me that these androids just weren't wandering around and stumbled on you by accident." He raised his gaze to the colonel.

Rhodey let out a long breath as he shook his head, thinking back to the officer who had directed the androids over to him in the first place. Something definitely wasn't right about any of this. "Vision and I were called in to help with clean up efforts since the blaze is finally more controlled," he explained, gesturing toward the top of the building with his free hand. He shook his head slightly. "It seems like someone doesn't want us poking around here."

"Because we'd find something that they don't want us to find?" Scott pressed, his words rushed and on the verge of conspiratorial excitement.

Before Clint or Rhodey could say anything further, there was a deafening _crack_ from above them, and all three men looked up in time to see a small corner of the building had imploded, causing a few larger, flaming pieces of concrete to break off.

And they were directly in their path.

The archer tightened his hold on the colonel while Scott rushed to his other side as he tried to back them out of the way in time. But then, scarlet energy appeared around the pieces of rubble, halting their descent. Rhodey quickly looked behind them to see that a light-haired young woman with a long red coat was staring intently up at the debris with her arms raised from across the street, the same red light swirling around her hands and ringing her pupils. A smile that could almost be described as proud appeared on Clint's face while Scott cheered.

"Yeah, you go, Wanda! That's our girl!"

Wanda Maximoff focused on bringing the rubble safely to the ground away from the three men, making sure they landed instead on another larger pile of debris not too far away. The scarlet energy then faded, and she made her way over to where they had gathered.

"That was a close call," she muttered with a small smile.

"Yeah, no kidding," Clint agreed. "Thanks for saving our asses there."

Wanda smiled, but before she could say anything, the large rubble pile she'd lowered the flaming debris into shifted, causing sparks to fly in all directions. Clint and Scott led Rhodey a little further away, and it was then they heard voices of other volunteers drifting over to them.

"You guys can't be seen here," the colonel muttered anxiously as his gaze passed over the other three Avengers, lingering on Wanda the longest. "There are... officers swarming the place. If they see you... especially with what these androids could look like at first glance..."

"Right. Yeah, we'd probably better get out of here, guys," Scott agreed with a nod, his eyes darting around the harbor. "We don't wanna be spotted with what could pass for pretty convincing dead bodies when the law already hates us. Getting arrested again isn't going to help any of us... We'd be worse off this time with the whole prison break thing, too, we don't want to risk that..."

But Clint's brow furrowed, having caught the hesitation in the colonel's sentence. "How did these things find you?" he wondered. "Someone send 'em?"

Rhodey sighed, his gaze landing on the lead officer he'd seen before lingering at the other end of the building, most likely seeing if the androids he'd sent over had completed their job yet. "Yeah," he told him. "A cop."

"Dirty?" Scott asked.

"Or pretending to be one," Clint added, following the colonel's gaze. He sighed with frustration, wishing the man in question would turn around so he could see his face.

"Either way, it seems like what happened up on that rooftop may be more involved than we thought," Rhodey muttered. "We don't know if this dude's working alone, or if there are more..."

"Or where in the world he got androids," Scott threw in.

"It also tells us that whoever attacked Stark took a lot of time to prepare for either taking or killing him," Wanda mused. "You just don't find androids like this lying around. And to set up plants like the cop... This is an entire planned operation, not a crime of opportunity."

"That leads me to believe that Stark was taken, not killed," Clint said thoughtfully, his eyes moving back to the top of the flaming, collapsed building. "No one would go through all that trouble planning just to kill him. They want something from him. Or us."

Scott frowned. "And with these plants, we don't know who we can trust. Other than ourselves. We're on our own, guys."

"Right," Rhodey agreed. "And I don't think I was supposed to survive this attack to figure all that out."

Clint worried his bottom lip between his teeth. "Whoever it is certainly picked the right time to strike. We were divided. Scattered. And with you and Vision being the only ones who are actively still working on this team, and since you were a target, it seems like they want you both out of the way, too. And are assuming that the rest of us wouldn't come back."

"Don't forget that spider boy," Wanda said. "With him being blamed and looked for, it keeps him from being a threat, too." The archer nodded his agreement.

"So. The big question here is, where does that leave us?" Scott asked, looking around at Rhodey, Clint, and Wanda.

Rhodey let out a long breath with a brief shake of his head. While they had some things to go off of– such as the hallucinogenic gas that was used, some of the things Steve had found in his search of the harbor, Peter's conviction that he'd seen the Winter Soldier, this guy with wings that may or may not have any role to play in Tony's disappearance, and now these androids and plants– each development seemed to leave them with more questions and not enough answers.

But before he could voice any of these thoughts aloud, a loud commotion from the other side of the building, closer to the water, caught their attention. It sounded... panicked.

"Whoa, what's going on over there?" Scott wondered. "Someone find something?"

"I don't know, but we need to see what it is if they have," Rhodey replied.

"We'd better stay back here," Clint told them. "Rhodes is right, we can't afford to be seen."

"Will you be all right?" Wanda's gaze travelled down to the colonel's leg braces.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Rhodey said with a nod. "Don't worry. Head over to the Tower. I'll check out what's going on here, and alert you of what I find out."

"You sure?" Scott pressed.

Before anything else could be said, another figure appeared out of the shadows, an unreadable look on his reddish face.

"Colonel, you must..." Vision began, but he paused when he saw Rhodey was no longer alone. His light gaze passed over the other three Avengers before moving to the two motionless androids at their feet. "Clint. Scott." He briefly paused, his eyes landing on the young woman again. "Wanda."

"Vis." A small smile flashed across Wanda's face before it faded with concern.

The android was seemingly agitated and in a lot of distress. There was sorrow and maybe even a little bit of fear in his gaze, even though she wasn't sure if he had ever really experienced these things before or if he even knew what the emotions were. She'd never seen him in this state before. Her heart wavered as something in the back of her mind told her that something was very wrong.

With only a little hesitation, Wanda slowly stepped forward. Vision kept his eyes on her as she stopped in front of him, taking his hand in both of hers and holding it tenderly but securely. "Vis, what is it?" she asked. "What happened? What's wrong?"

Vision looked down at their joined hands for a moment before raising his gaze back to hers, and she felt her heart plummet. The look she saw there nearly took her breath away.

 _Despair_.

"Catastrophe," he whispered.

Wanda's gaze faltered as she looked over her shoulder at Clint. Though the archer's features remained impassive, the uncertain look in his eyes betrayed his concern.

The android raised his gaze to Rhodey. "Colonel, I implore you to come with me," he continued. "You must see this."

The colonel set his jaw before he nodded once. Even though Vision's unexpected reaction to whatever must have been found perturbed him, he knew he had to follow.

"What about the rest of us?" Scott wondered quietly and somewhat anxiously. "We can't be seen here."

Clint sighed. "We'll observe from further back," he told him. "I have a feeling we'll all need to see this."

Vision's gaze faltered as confusion crossed his face, attempting to grasp _something_ that he had seen. He looked down when Wanda turned back to him, and despite the raging emotions flitting across his features, he managed to give her a small, shaky smile. She returned the look as she tried to reassure him, and she lightly squeezed his hand before hesitantly releasing it and stepping back.

The android then approached Rhodey, taking him from Clint and Scott as he wound his arm around his neck. The colonel kept his gaze straight ahead as he leaned a little on the other Avenger, ignoring the pain in his left leg as he focused on each step he took toward the group that was speaking in raised, anxious voices in the glow of the spotlights. There was a bad feeling he couldn't ignore as it tried to claw its way out of him, one that was telling him exactly what he would find once they reached the site. But he pushed it down as best as he could. It was something he couldn't think about. It was something he couldn't accept.

At least, not until he saw it for himself.

Together, he and Vision began to push through the crowd of volunteers, and Rhodey couldn't help but notice that some of them were regarding them with what looked eerily like sympathy as they allowed them to pass by. Oh, how he hated those looks... He did his best to ignore them until they reached a group of police officers and firefighters that had been on scene since the building had exploded and were now leading the clean up efforts. They stood in an uneven half circle around a large, crumbling pile of debris against the brick wall, all staring at something between them. After a quick glance, he noticed the officer in charge who had sent the androids to attack him, though the other man remained unfazed to see him.

The rest of the group of rescue workers straightened their postures when they saw him, and the head firefighter approached them with a heavy sigh and regret in his gaze. "Colonel. Vision," he said, his head bowed slightly. "I know how difficult this time has been for you, but–!"

"Just shut up and let me through," Rhodey snapped in just above a whisper, which was the only way he'd keep his voice controlled. His tone was harsher than he'd meant it to be, but after the ambush and the pity everyone was now regarding him with, his patience was wearing thin, and he had reached the end of his resolve.

The firefighter nodded once in understanding and stepped aside, gesturing for the rest of the crew to follow suit. Vaguely aware that news cameras and reporters were starting to descend upon them, Rhodey took his arm from around the android and inwardly cringed as he took a few steps forward. They were slow and deliberate, but they brought him to where he needed to be. He came to a stop in front of the pile of debris and stood still for a long moment before he, without a sound, crumpled weakly to his knees.

Only the upper body of the man was visible– the rest was buried beneath the rubble. The dark shirt he wore was torn in various places and stained crimson. His muscled arms were bruised, bloodied, and burned. One was bent at an odd angle.

But it was his face that did him in.

Rhodey hardly noticed the tears that had formed in his eyes until they obstructed his view of the other man before they escaped down his cheeks. Vision floated noiselessly over, crouching down beside him to shield him from the frantic flashing of cameras and raised questions from reporters, asking how the discovery made him feel. He was grateful to the other Avenger, though it was something he couldn't give voice to. How did anyone expect him to speak now, to answer questions that were being thrown at him when he was just... exhausted?

Numb?

The lifeless man's face, much like his arms, were marked by dried blood, ugly bruising, and severe burns. His black hair and facial hair, usually kept immaculate, was singed. His neck was in the same condition as the rest of the exposed skin, though also slightly twisted in an unnatural way.

But even with his features disfigured, Rhodey knew there was no way he could mistake him for anyone else.

Tony Stark had been found.

 **Author's Note** : *hides from readers* My only defense here is to expect anything from here on out! The next chapter is almost done, so it shouldn't take too, too long to update. Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Until next time, guys!


	16. Chapter 16- Iron Requiem

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit. I also don't own the lines used from _Captain America: Civil War_.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Hey, guys! As always, thanks for your reviews, favorites, and follows! Much appreciated, they keep me going! :-) I don't have too much to say this time around following that, er... rather evil ending (other than expect anything as we continue here). So, we'll just continue on, shall we?

 _Chapter 16– Iron Requiem_

 _"We start the top of the hour with breaking news out of Manhattan. The search for Tony Stark has reached its tragic conclusion._

 _"As we've been reporting on for the past few days, Stark was last seen at the New York Harbor near the Staten Island ferry port after having rescued passengers aboard a sinking Staten Island Ferry, speaking with the masked vigilante known as Spider-Man. Eyewitnesses claim the two were involved in some sort of heated argument before Spider-Man fled the scene shortly before an explosion ripped the building they were standing on apart. There have been a range of reports on the cause of this incident, from a gas leak to an attack by Spider-Man as the cause for the blaze. The cause is still unknown, though eyewitnesses believe that Spider-Man is to blame._

 _"The blaze is more controlled now than earlier in the week, leading New York's finest to start clean-up efforts around the harbor. Volunteer efforts, led by Avengers Colonel James Rhodes and Vision, began this evening. It was these efforts that led to the discovery of Stark._

 _"Hundreds of protesters and supporters have been keeping vigil at the site, hopeful for Stark's safe return. However, tonight, Stark's body was uncovered in the rubble, and hopes that he had somehow escaped from the explosion have turned to mourning. Cause of death is yet to be determined._

 _"Memorial service and funeral dates will be announced as plans are made._

 _"Both Rhodes and Vision have declined our request for comment._

 _"Due to eyewitness reports, a warrant will be released for Spider-Man's arrest in connection with Stark's death. Investigators want him brought in for questioning as soon as possible. If anyone knows anything about his whereabouts or anything that could lead to his arrest to get him off the streets, we ask you to contact local police._

 _"Stark, known for being one of the world's most eccentric billionaires, is perhaps best known for donning the Iron Man suit to help keep New York, and the world, safe as part of the Avengers Initiative. Though he is also well-known for his generous contributions to charities across the planet, his groundbreaking work and investment in the newest technological advances through his company known as Stark Industries, and for starting his own aid and relief fund for war-torn and impoverished nations, as well as areas hit by disasters. Tonight, our hearts go out to all of his friends, loved ones, and those whose lives he's impacted in the wake of this tragedy._

 _"He will be sorely missed._

 _"Rest in peace, Iron Man. Thank you for all you have done to protect us and to make this world a better, safer place for everyone."_

* * *

Clint perched on the edge of the landing pad at the top of the Tower, his sharp gaze sweeping over the bright lights of the still bustling city far beneath him. The gentle night breeze brushed against his cheek as he raised his eyes to rest on the harbor, where black smoke still billowed toward the dark sky. Sirens echoed faintly in his ears.

The past couple hours... ever since Stark had been discovered in the rubble... had been surreal. Almost dream-like, a nightmare, since it just didn't feel real. How could it be when one of their own wasn't coming back?

The archer's hand curled into a fist. Stark was someone he didn't necessarily get along with or see eye to eye with all of the time. Probably most of the time, if he were being honest with himself. Hell, the other man's ego had been more than aggravating on a good day, but he'd gotten better, more mellowed out, over the years, he had to admit that. He had even started to become someone he considered to be a good friend.

Though no matter what, Stark was _one of their own_...

Yes, they were on different sides when it came to the bullshit surrounding the Sokovia Accords. Sure, he agreed with the premise of needing some sort of check on them from time to time. They'd caused a lot of destruction over the years... innocent lives had unfortunately gotten caught in the crossfire... as they'd tried to save the world. He had a family; he understood the need and want to keep as many people out of harm's way as possible.

But he also knew the unfortunate reality was that they couldn't save everyone. There would always be destruction. There would always, regrettably, be lives lost that shouldn't be. And maybe he was jaded at the system due to his less than ideal upbringing when said system that was supposed to protect him and his older brother failed them, and due to his time being groomed and trained by a bunch of criminals, but he didn't trust Secretary of State Ross or what the government decided what constituted as a threat big enough for them to intervene in and decide when they could act. He'd had a hard enough time trusting S.H.I.E.L.D. when Nick Fury had first made him the offer to join. He knew well how easy it was for an organization of any kind acting in what it felt was the best interest for the common good to be corrupted, and the matter of the Accords could be no different. Plus, if some calamity happened and all of their hands were tied when they were needed the most, the destruction and innocent lives lost that followed would be on them.

No matter what, no matter which way he looked at it, he agreed with Steve. The safest hands were still their own. It's why he'd set aside his retirement he'd hoped for the last time... to help the Captain when he'd called on him.

Though Stark was stubborn... almost too stubborn for his own good sometimes. Even though he understood the billionaire's position, he just wished that everyone involved in the dispute could have worked out this issue like the adults they were. It would have saved them a lot of headache. He never should have retired, no matter how much he felt it was the right choice at the time after the birth of his third child. And after that speedy, sarcastic kid had died to save his life in Sokovia...

Clint took a deep breath and set his jaw, trying to push those thoughts aside. He couldn't let himself go back there, not at the moment. He couldn't allow the thoughts that it should have been him instead, that the kid shouldn't have given his own life in his place, that the kid should be enjoying the hopefully many years he would have had before him with his sister. The archer knew he'd lived his life, he'd accomplished things he never thought he would have, though those things were everything he'd ever wanted. The kid should have had that chance to live his life. He himself had found redemption after the criminal lifestyle he used to lead, the kid should have had the same opportunity to turn his life around and find his own way after all that Hydra had put him through.

He'd never stopped believing that the Quinjet bullets had shot down the wrong person in Sokovia that day. And he never would.

But Stark...

He was one of their own, too. One of the good ones. One who'd also had the opportunity to turn his life around and had done so successfully. And no matter what, no matter how often the billionaire had gotten under his skin or had gotten on his very last nerve, he hadn't deserved _this_. There was more to be done with his life, more contributions to be made, more love and happiness to be found. He knew Stark wouldn't have given up without a fight, he'd had too much to live for. Though even the great Tony Stark never could have survived that explosion, not without a suit at the very least.

Though he also had to admit that Stark had been... different ever since the matter of the Accords had ripped the Avengers apart. But who was he kidding? The cracks, the divisions, between them all had always been there; hidden, because on the surface, they were an effective and efficient team when the world needed them to be. But they weren't a _team_. Not yet. They hadn't figured that part out yet, not totally. All they'd needed was the right push to break them apart. And Ross had dropped that right into their laps with the Accords.

Stark and Steve had always had their issues seeing eye to eye and being on the same page, that much had been clear from the beginning. He really wasn't surprised that they'd stood on opposite sides when it came to the Accords. There was a time, the archer remembered, where he and the rest of the Avengers had wondered if they'd ever be able to coexist on the same team. But they had. They'd come to trust each other. Until that had been shattered in Siberia...

Clint shook his head slightly. He wasn't sure how Stark and Steve would've made it back from that. He only knew that they should have had a chance to try. The billionaire's death would weigh on the Captain's conscience for the rest of his life now. Just like Pietro's would on his.

If only that difficult situation involving the truth about what had happened to Stark's parents had been handled differently... maybe they wouldn't be mourning the loss of one of their own now.

But at the same time, Steve was _here_. Steve had been trying to find their missing teammate, despite all that had happened between them. That alone gave him hope that maybe, just _maybe_ they all could, as a unit, come back together. To learn, _together_ , how to be a true team– stronger and better than they were before all this Accords bullshit happened.

It just shouldn't have taken something as disastrous as Stark's death to do it.

At this thought, Clint's brow furrowed. How had he read the situation so wrong down by the harbor? Why would someone go through so much trouble just to kill the billionaire? It didn't make any sense to him. Whoever was behind the ambush must have wanted _something_... He just didn't know what yet.

And the more he thought about it, the more something just didn't seem... _right_ about all of this. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

Clint felt more than heard or saw her sit on the ledge next to him. He wasn't surprised that she'd found him. She always did, no matter what.

"You know... I don't really know if the blonde suits you," he muttered, glancing over at her with the ghost of a smirk. "Red's a better color on you."

Natasha looked back at him, the same expression tugging at the corner of her lips. "I could say the same about the ridiculous mohawk," she countered lightly. But then, the look waned. "How are you holding up out here?"

Clint let out a long breath as he looked back out at the city far below. "Just wondering if things would have gone differently if we'd gotten here sooner."

"Don't do that to yourself, Barton, I swear," Natasha scolded, leaning a little closer to him. "You know as well as I do that it probably wouldn't have made any difference. If he wasn't able to escape that explosion, then we were all too late. Don't put that on yourself. We all knew this was always a possibility when we all agreed to be a part of this team. It was a risk we were all willing to take."

When the archer didn't say anything for a long moment, the assassin sighed as she looked out over the city herself. Though the bright lights didn't hold their usual charm that night. In fact, the bustling place seemed just a little bit darker than usual.

To her, death was a different sort of animal than it was to most people. It didn't scare her, despite how she couldn't say for sure if anything came after or not. Death was normal, just a part of life. It was inevitable; it didn't discriminate. But being raised around death, brought up around death, trained to be a ruthless bringer of death... she was used to it. It was something that had been so entangled with her life that it was something that didn't faze her anymore. Her own mortality was something she rarely gave a thought to, if ever.

She'd taken many lives without blinking, just like she'd been instructed to. She'd lost just as many who were on her side, both out of the Red Room and in S.H.I.E.L.D. Again, she hadn't blinked as those lights flickered and faded.

For most of her life, death was something that she'd been desensitized to since it was so normal.

Though after joining S.H.I.E.L.D., she'd made the realization that it was simply because she hadn't formed any attachments to any of those lives around her. Empathy had been something fundamental that had been taken from her once she completed the graduation ceremony from the Red Room. Seeing those around her as human– seeing _herself_ as human– simply wasn't efficient for a mission.

Natasha shot a quick glance at the man beside her. When Clint had spared her life– an act of mercy she'd never granted to anyone before that moment– and brought her in to S.H.I.E.L.D. instead of taking her out like he'd been instructed to do, she hadn't understood his decision. She hadn't known what he'd seen in her that was worth saving, that was worth giving another chance to. She'd stuck close to him, though. She'd owed him a debt, after all.

Though as time had gone on, she realized that perhaps all her humanity hadn't been stripped from her after all. She'd bonded with the archer, she'd enjoyed his company. She'd been afraid to admit it at first, but for the first time in a long time, she'd felt that she'd actually made a friend– the second time she'd really ever done so. She'd had someone she could put the cold, unfeeling assassin away around. She'd found someone that she could trust with herself. When she'd met his family, she'd felt like she was finally able to have something she knew she never could. She cared about those children and the woman who was his other half and made him happy. His happiness made her happy.

Nick Fury had become someone she felt the same way about. At first, Natasha had viewed him the same way as she had her superiors and teachers in the Red Room. The director had simply been the one she reported to for a mission, and she'd made sure to complete them to the best of her ability since that's what he'd expected out of her, and she'd had to impress him so that he wouldn't regret his decision to keep her around. So that she could stay.

But much like Clint, Fury had given her a second chance. He'd cared about her, making sure that she'd had everything she'd needed and wanted, making sure she was tended to if she'd been injured in a mission. No one had ever done those things– checking on her well-being– for her before, not without some sort of motive or expecting something in return. And much like she had with Clint, she'd begun to care about Fury, too. She'd gotten attached, something that she'd always believed to be dangerous, something she'd never felt like she could afford to do. Any attachments she'd made in the Red Room– which had only been one– had been taken away from her because it was a distraction from their missions. It wasn't efficient. She hadn't been able to hang on to it. She wasn't sure if he even remembered all of what they'd had when they'd managed to get away with it for that much too short time; the Red Room had almost made her forget it, after all.

Though with Clint and Fury as a part of S.H.I.E.L.D., things had been different. It was almost as though her heart had finally started beating again. While disconcerting, and frankly terrifying, at first, it was what she needed. It had given her a purpose. It made her feel human.

It was also when Natasha had started to be afraid of death for the second time. Not her own, that still didn't concern her. But Clint... Fury... The times that the archer had been grievously injured during missions, when he'd been under Loki's mind control... She'd been terrified to lose him, to lose one of the only people who'd given her life any sort of meaning. It had been the same with the director, having actually mourned for him when she'd believed his light had flickered and faded. After she'd believed the Winter Soldier had killed him...

The assassin's gaze faltered. Yes, Clint knew her better than anyone. He knew her fears, her hopes, all the sins she'd ever committed, the redemptions she'd had. Everything. Fury was a confidant, someone she could trust anything with. Someone who didn't look at her like the monster she'd been molded into.

But there was someone else, before either of them... one who knew her more intimately than anyone. One she'd shared dreams of escaping from the Red Room with. One, though simply starting as a distraction, she thought she could've said she loved if they'd been allowed to remain together, before that emotion had once again been taken from her since it wasn't efficient. One who'd helped to shape her into the killing machine she was. One who'd first given her the fear of death when he'd return from a mission with some sort of injury before she was once again programmed not to give it a second thought. One she'd believed, until recently, had forgotten all about her and what they'd once had together.

Natasha let out a quiet breath. Yes, death was still normal. Just a part of life. But death was also something she now dreaded, even feared. Still not for her own mortality. But for the man beside her. For Nick Fury. For the first person she thought she'd ever loved. For Steve Rogers. For Bruce Banner. For Sam Wilson. For Thor. For Wanda Maximoff. Even for Tony Stark.

At first, the assassin had hated the connections she'd formed with the people she was a part of the same team with. The Avengers... Fury's brainchild. Bonds like that made a person weak. There was no way to be truly efficient in a mission if one was concerned for the lives of those around them.

But as she'd learned, it was those same connections that had made her stronger. They made her better. They made her human. And she rather liked the feeling as she'd allowed the bonds to strengthen, the friendships to grow. She had to admit that it had torn her apart to see all these people she now considered friends fight with each other, ripping what they had apart at the seams. It felt strange to be so spread out.

And Tony...

Oh, how she'd despised the man when she'd first met him, having to deal with all of his flirtatious advances. Natasha allowed a slight smile as she remembered how the billionaire had used to be when she'd posed as his new assistant– egotistical, self-centered, selfish, didn't work well with others. Nothing at all what Nick Fury had been looking for when he'd been putting his Avengers Initiative together. Frankly, Tony had failed miserably in qualifying.

But they'd given him a chance because they'd had to. The earth had been in danger. They'd needed him. And she had been the first to admit that he'd completely proved her wrong when he'd taken the rogue nuclear missile and brought it through the wormhole with no regard for his own life.

Ever since, Tony had been the cornerstone of the team they'd been attempting to be. He'd provided them with tech, with weapons, with suit upgrades. But he'd also been someone they'd been able to look to for support, for guidance. He'd been a solid foundation. He'd surprised her even further when he began to mentor the young Peter Parker. Sure, there were times where the billionaire still couldn't let go of that ego he tended to hide any vulnerabilities behind, which would often get under her skin and put her on edge.

But still. Tony was Tony. One had to accept the whole package when it came to him, even the annoying pieces. But she couldn't deny that he had been a good man. Knowing that he was gone was something that was hard to wrap her mind around. And while she found she couldn't shed a tear for him since they hadn't reached that point, there was an emptiness in her chest at the realization that she wouldn't see him again.

Tony Stark wasn't coming back.

"There's going to be a lot to take care of," Natasha finally said, attempting to distract herself from the conflicting emotions raging beneath the surface. Words filled the void left behind. "Probably some paperwork somewhere... arrangements made..."

"Nat?"

The assassin paused in her musings at the quiet sound of her name, and she looked over to see that her companion was silently watching her. "Yeah?"

Clint gave her a sad, knowing smile. "Turn that brain of yours off for one damned minute and take a second for yourself to grieve," he told her in just above a whisper.

Of course he knew... He always knew.

Natasha continued to meet his gaze for another moment before she sighed with a brief nod of defeat. She scooted a little closer to him before resting her head on his shoulder, briefly closing her eyes when she felt his head press lightly against hers.

The two sat just like that, each lost in their own thoughts, silently watching as the bright lights of the city continued to thrive with life far beneath them.

* * *

Sam stared up at the high ceiling above him from where he was stretched out on the couch in the penthouse, his eyes absently tracing shapes in the shadows as he listened to the news report covering the events down at the harbor. That was already memorializing Tony Stark's life. Though the words he was hardly paying attention to almost didn't seem real, almost like they were talking about a different Tony Stark.

It had been a couple hours since the billionaire's body had been discovered in the rubble of the ruined building. The news was nearly impossible to escape from. Not that he was surprised. Tony Stark was a household name. Loved– or hated– by many.

Personally, he really hadn't known the man too well, at least not well enough to be as affected by news of his death as others in the Tower. The times he'd been around the billionaire, he found him to be a nice enough guy. Maybe a bit too full of himself at times, but overall, he'd stood by and fought for what he'd believed in. And that, at least, made him respect him. Tony had genuinely cared about those around him, that he could see, even if he hadn't shown it in a typical way.

But then the Accords happened, and they'd found themselves on opposing sides. Though, Sam remembered, when Tony had sought him out at the Raft prison, wanting to go after Steve and Bucky to help them with the threat they'd believed they'd face in Siberia, he'd seen the genuine apology about targeting Barnes, the regret about causing himself and the Captain to be at odds, and the desire to aid them and to make things right in his hazel eyes. It took a big man to do that, to admit he was wrong. It was why he'd told him where they were going, so he could join them there. As a friend.

If he'd known what would happen in that Siberian wasteland instead... he never would have given the billionaire their location. Maybe then, he and Steve wouldn't have turned against each other.

Maybe then, Tony would still be alive.

Sam raised his head curiously when he heard slow, hesitant footsteps, seeing Scott had found a spot to sit on the arm of one of the other nearby couches, his gaze resting on the television as he watched the news broadcast intently.

"Hey, Tic Tac."

Startled, Scott turned to look at him before cracking half as mile. "Oh, uh, hey, man," he replied a little nervously. "I didn't, like... wake you up or something, did I?"

Sam shook his head. "Nah, man," he assured him. He then sat up, turning to look at the television himself. "I was just, uh... thinking about some things."

The ex-con followed his gaze, wringing his hands together. "Yeah... hard to believe he's dead. The man seemed invincible, you know?"

Despite himself, Sam chuckled. "No one's invincible," he muttered. From his years in the Air Force, from the personal loss he'd suffered, it was something he knew all too well.

Scott seemed to realize they were broaching a difficult subject, so he turned his focus back to the television. He watched footage of Tony doing some sort of presentation for a few minutes in silence before he turned back to the other man. "You know what Hank Pym told me? To never trust a Stark," he said. "He had some issues with Tony's dad, Howard, or something, I think... But even though I didn't know the guy, and he was against us in Germany, Tony didn't seem all that bad, you know? Sure, he could be a jerk. But the guy was doing what he thought was right. Can't begrudge him that. That's all any of us can do..."

"You got that right." Sam gazed at Tony's smiling face on the screen for a moment longer before he glanced over his shoulder at the bar behind him. "Want a drink, Tic Tac?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Both men wandered over to the bar, where Sam immediately pulled out two glasses and filled them with ice. He opened the mini fridge to peruse their options. "Fully stocked," he announced. "What sounds good?"

"Uh, not something overly heavy... Hard lemonade?" Scott suggested.

Sam nodded, pulling out two bottles and starting to pour them into the glasses.

The ex-con watched him for a moment before leaning on the counter between them. "So, uh... tell me a little more about Tony," he said. "Did he have a family or anything? Kids?"

"No," Sam replied as he topped off the glasses. "He was in a long-time relationship with his CEO, but they were taking a break, last I heard... Though personally, I think they were working things out. No children, though he was mentoring that Spider-Man kid."

Scott arched an eyebrow. "The one they put a warrant out for?" he asked.

"One and the same," Sam answered. "But don't believe the nonsense. It's all noise. He's a good kid. He was willing to do whatever he could to find Tony..."

The two men were silent for a long moment, neither knowing what to say, so Sam returned to the fridge for a couple of lemon slices to go along with their drinks. Scott drummed his fingers on the counter.

"Is this the first time you guys have lost someone?" the latter wondered. "I mean, you know..."

Sam straightened up and met his gaze. He sighed quietly, slipping the lemon slices on the rims of the glasses. "We've all lost someone we love, I'm sure. But as for losing a member of the team... since I've officially been a part of it, yeah. This is the first time we've lost one of our own. But there was another before that. Wanda's brother. Her twin."

Scott's gaze faltered as his brow furrowed. "Oh, man... I had no idea..."

"She doesn't like to talk about it." Sam then held out one of the glasses to the other man.

The ex-con took it, but before he brought it to his lips, he raised the glass in the air between them. "To Tony Stark. May he rest easy."

Sam raised his as well. "And to finding the son of a bitch who _really_ did this. May we hunt him or her down before kicking their ass. May we avenge Tony Stark."

"Amen." Scott smirked, Sam mirroring the look as they clinked their glasses together and knocked back their drinks.

* * *

The kindest thing Tony Stark had ever done for her was give her an acoustic guitar.

Wanda sat in a chair at one of the outside tables at an all-night diner about a block away from the Tower, simply watching people bustling around her– even at the late hour– from under the brim of a baseball cap that Steve had let her borrow. She knew it probably wasn't the best idea to be away from the relative safety of the Tower and the other Avengers when she was wanted by the law, but with how heavy the air was inside their hideout, she found it was nearly impossible to stay. It was thick with grief, with rage, with regret, with guilt. It was suffocating for her. She'd needed some air to clear her mind.

It reminded her way too much of the inside of her own head after what had happened in Sokovia...

She took a sharp intake of breath when she noticed the tendrils of scarlet energy trailing along her fingers, and she quickly forced them back down before anyone could notice. She couldn't think about _him_ , about what had happened, even though he haunted her every step.

His loss had broken her; she was missing a crucial part of herself in his absence.

But Tony Stark? That was a little different... a little more complicated.

Wanda sighed. It wasn't that she didn't feel the impact of his death. It wasn't that she didn't regret his loss. She'd seen too many losses of human life, too many instances of suffering, in her almost nineteen years of life; she knew that each one was important and should be cherished. Her own soul had been severed in half due to loss. She understood the impact of grief all too well.

But it was no real secret that she and Tony had never really... been on the same page, had never really seen eye to eye. They'd just never really learned how to get along with each other. In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if he still hated her. Or rather, _had_ still hated her.

And she couldn't deny that she'd spent quite a bit of her life hating him, blaming him for what had happened to her home, to her family, to Sokovia.

Though Wanda knew she couldn't blame Tony for hating her in turn. After all, it was her power that had given him the vision of the Earth destroyed and all of his friends dead. Her power that had caused him to create Ultron, which had in turn taken the most important person in her life away from her. Her power that had killed all those innocents... those _children_... in Lagos, which had led to the drafting of the Accords, which had caused the team to fracture...

Which had led to his death.

Wanda took a deep breath. Yes, she'd spent most of her life hating Tony Stark for wrongs she'd believed he'd committed. For sins she'd been made to believe he'd committed. She hadn't known better, she'd been told who to blame. The people of Sokovia had been given an enemy, which was what they'd needed at the time.

Though Tony, she had to admit, wasn't nearly as bad as she'd been told. She could see that, and she knew her brother had seen that before it had been too late, too. He'd been egotistical and stubborn, sure, but not the heartless killer they'd been made to believe he was.

After Pietro's death and the destruction in Sokovia, the billionaire had been the one to offer her a place to live in the Avengers compound when she'd had no home and no family. Despite all she had done. He'd offered awkward apologies for everything that had happened in Sokovia, for the loss of her brother. While Steve and Natasha had been her trainers, Tony had made sure she had everything she needed and wanted to furnish her own space in the compound– a decent-sized flat-screen television, a computer, a shelf full of books, a full-colored globe. All things that she'd never really had growing up because her family couldn't afford such luxuries.

And an acoustic guitar.

If Tony had found it strange that that was the only item that she'd personally requested when he'd asked if there was anything he could get for her to make her feel at home when she'd first moved into the compound, he hadn't said so. She couldn't play the instrument, after all, but she'd been learning since she'd been given it. It was the thing she missed the most since she'd been on the run.

It gave her a piece of her brother.

One of her favorite memories growing up with Pietro was how he'd been able to play the guitar with so much heart. When they'd been children, he'd always been so interested and enthralled by the street musicians who would often play their instruments in the main city squares in Sokovia. So much so that one of the older women had let him try out her old but beautiful acoustic guitar whenever they'd passed her by.

A hint of a smile appeared at the corner of Wanda's lips as she absently twirled one of the silver rings around her index finger. Even at a young age, before his abilities had been brought out by Strucker's enhancement experiments, he'd been able to pick things up and learn them quickly. His brain had always just seemed to work at a quicker pace, a higher frequency, than most. So, of course, it hadn't taken him too long to learn how to play the guitar. He'd loved it so much that their parents had saved up to buy one– a gift she'd contributed toward with her allowance money– for his birthday a couple years before the bombings.

Though after the bombs fell, after their parents died, things had changed. The guitar had survived the disaster, but Pietro had never touched it again. Between the rebellion he'd led and eventually Strucker's experiments, he'd just seemed to lose all interest in the instrument. It'd sat forgotten in the ruins of their apartment as they'd fought alongside the Avengers to try to save their home, never to be seen again as she'd left what remained of that home behind.

Wanda quickly looked up when a styrofoam cup was set on the table in front of her, and she attempted a smile as the android sat in the chair across the table from her. She hadn't realized that a couple tears were trailing down her cheeks until she saw his light eyes falter.

"I apologize, there was a bit of a wait," Vision said gently. "Are you all right?"

Wrapping her hands around the hot cup to warm the chill in her fingers, Wanda nodded as she took a deep breath. "I'll be fine," she replied, her voice cracking slightly as she blinked any remaining tears away. "How are you coping? With the loss, I mean?"

Vision hesitated as he looked down at his own folded hands. "I am not certain I am experiencing the grief of Mr. Stark's passing in the same way as the others," he admitted. "Although I am unaccustomed to understanding any sort of emotion."

Wanda took a sip of the coffee the android had bought for her before quickly wiping at the dampness on her cheeks. "Do you feel anything?" she asked quietly. Grief, mourning, sorrow... they were damaging emotions. But they were part of the human experience. They were healing during a difficult process such as the loss of a loved one. While she'd spent many long hours trapped in her own head being swallowed up by those very emotions after Pietro's death, and while she sometimes found herself back in that place, she couldn't imagine having been able to move on, stronger, had she not experienced them.

"Yes." The android raised his gaze to hers. "Though it is not the same... pleasant spark as I feel when I am with you. Rather it... it is almost as though there is something missing. That there is an empty space where something once was."

"That's what grief is, Vis," Wanda murmured, thinking about the void that would never be filled in her own soul.

"Perhaps, but it is more complicated than that," Vision told her. He absently reached out, brushing one of his fingers lightly against the back of her hand. "There is a part of me... JARVIS, it is called... that, for a program, was very attached and very loyal to Mr. Stark. In its own way, it cared for and loved him as family. That is the part of me that is feeling this emptiness. That is experiencing this pain..."

Wanda's face crumpled as she lowered her gaze to the cup between her hands. She didn't know what she could say.

"I wish to understand more of what I am experiencing. So I may mourn along with the rest." Vision leaned forward on the table, closing the distance between them a bit. "Wanda?"

Knowing what he wanted her to do, Wanda quickly looked back up at him. "Oh, Vis... You don't want to feel what I am right now," she told him. Not her complicated feelings about the man he wished to grieve for and what it meant now that he was gone. Not her despair about being severed from Pietro...

To her surprise, a slight smile turned up the corner of Vision's lips. "I understand," he said. "I understand that you and Mr. Stark were never close. Though, in his way, he was doing what he believed to be best when it came to protecting you from those who wished to bring you harm."

Wanda chuckled before she took another sip of the coffee. _You locked me in my room_. What a childish comment she'd made during the fight at the airport in Germany. It had only been her frustration at the entire situation she'd found herself in, but still. "I know, Vis, I really do..."

"Though there is something else I wish to tell you."

The tone of her companion's voice caused her to pause and look at him curiously. "What's that?" she asked.

Vision took a deep breath. "Mr. Stark was aware that we were meeting in secret," he answered quietly.

Wanda's stomach dropped as she tightened her hold on the cup. Ever since she'd escaped from the Raft prison due to help from Steve, and since she'd been on the run with Clint and Scott, she and Vision had taken any chance they could to see each other in what they deemed to be safe locations, just to see if something between them could work. Though they also knew that if they were ever seen together, they would both be in jeopardy. Even though the android had signed the Accords, being seen with an escaped criminal who hadn't would be devastating. Clint was the only one on her side who knew where she was going when she'd leave them for a little while since he wouldn't let her out of his sight if he didn't know where she was sneaking off to, always giving her the same advice to be careful. She'd believed no one on Vision's side had been aware of their meetings.

"He _what_?" Panic caused her heart to race, and she had to focus to keep her powers repressed as energy threatened to crackle around her fingers. "Vis, we weren't supposed to tell anyone. What did he...?"

But her questions slowly trailed off when Vision slowly shook his head, that small smile lingering on his face. "Have you ever wondered why Mr. Stark hadn't been on the hunt for any of you?" he pressed.

Wanda's breath caught in her chest. Of course. If Tony had wanted to hunt any of them down for the crimes the government decreed they were committing, he'd have had no trouble finding them with the countless resources he had. Which meant that he hadn't been looking for them. He hadn't been helping Secretary Ross. But why...?

"I had to tell him where I was going when he caught me continually leaving," Vision continued lightly. "But he never pursued it. He knew I was seeing you. And he allowed us to meet, to see each other. I believe it was his way of attempting to keep us all connected."

Despite herself, a thin line of tears formed in Wanda's eyes as she looked back at him, entwining her fingers with his. She wasn't sure if she would have believed Tony of all people would have been all right with her and Vision's secret meetings if she couldn't see the truth of it in his gaze. While surprised, she was grateful that he had. Maybe he hadn't hated her as much as she'd thought, after all...

The android's smile faltered. "Please?" he pressed.

Wanda considered what he was asking her to do for a moment longer before she nodded in agreement. "All right." She couldn't deny him any further. Not after learning what Tony had been doing for them.

She focused on all of her conflicting emotions fighting to gain prominence, trying to create some sort of order out of the chaos. Tony's death... Pietro's death... the sorrow, the rage, the guilt... She had to get it all under control.

Scarlet energy formed at her fingertips, filled with all of this turmoil. Her eyes rested on the yellow stone in the middle of the android's forehead– that mysterious force that neither of them truly understood other than knowing it somehow linked the two of them together. With a quick glance to make sure no one was paying any attention to them, she sent the light directly into the gem so that he could feel these emotions, too. So that he could feel _her_.

Wanda watched silently as each stage of grief seemed to pass through Vision's light eyes as he registered them. His gaze faltered as that despair... the same despair she'd seen from him shortly after Tony had been found... appeared in his face again as his fingers tightened around hers.

"So this is loss..."

Nodding as a couple more tears leaked from her eyes, Wanda tightened her hold on his hand in return. She closed the rest of the distance separating them, closing her eyes as she rested her forehead against his. She listened to his rapid breathing, felt as it slowed to match hers. At least he wasn't alone in processing his grief.

At least they could come to terms with the billionaire's death together.

And, she realized as she stroked his hand lightly with her thumb, the true kindest thing that Tony Stark had given her wasn't that guitar. It was stolen moments like this with Vision.

* * *

 _Pain_.

That was the only thought on Rhodey's mind as he stared out the window of his room that he'd used whenever he'd crash for a night or two at the Tower, hardly registering the bright lights beneath him or the black smoke still billowing out over the harbor. Though while his leg was still throbbing with agony after that ambush, it wasn't his own that he couldn't stop thinking about.

 _Pain_... _Tony had_ _died in pain_...

He'd stared at his best friend's broken body for a full few minutes after the billionaire had been found among the rubble before Vision had made the call to get him out of the area as reporters and cameras had hounded them. He hadn't even had the strength to resist. As much as he'd wanted to finish pulling the man he'd called his best friend since their MIT days– which felt like a completely different lifetime– out of that debris himself, to hold him close, to protect him even then... he couldn't. He hadn't been able to do even that.

Though every detail, every horrifying detail, of the injuries that had marred Tony's face, his arms, stood out in his mind's eye. The severe burns alone would have been excruciating. The smoke inhalation, the suffocation, would also have brought more agony with it as the heat invaded his lungs. The best the colonel knew he could hope for was that Tony had either passed out due to that smoke, or his neck had been broken relatively quickly to ease the suffering.

But those _few minutes_ before either of those things may have happened...

Rhodey's breath hitched with a quiet sob, his hands trembling as he didn't bother to stop the tears from forming and trailing down his cheeks. He'd never imagined that he'd have to hope for small mercies such as _that_ for the man who had been closer to him than his family had ever been. He'd never imagined he'd discover his best friend dead in such a terrible way. He'd never imagined he'd have to mourn the death of the man he'd always believed would outlive him.

Even back during their MIT days, the colonel had been Tony's protector. The brilliant but brash heir to the Stark Industries fortune had entered the esteemed university at the age of fifteen, which had made him a prime target of those jealous of him. Rhodey chuckled quietly through the tears as he remembered the countless times he'd have to step in and intervene before something got ugly because Tony had rubbed the wrong person the wrong way. Or, he also remembered, how the young Stark's habitual party lifestyle had gotten him into many situations that he often needed some assistance from him to get out of.

And then, years later, that fateful trip to Afghanistan that had changed their lives forever...

Another sob shook Rhodey's lithe frame, and he clutched the windowsill tightly. He'd been one of the few not to have given up on Tony during those three hellish months he'd spent in captivity. He'd risked his own livelihood, his own career, in the military to return to Afghanistan to search for him, even though he'd been given a direct order not to. He'd refused to leave him behind if there had been even the slightest chance that he was alive.

He'd never been more relieved to find the younger man stumbling around the unforgiving desert, looking like hell but miraculously _breathing_...

Why couldn't he have ensured the same outcome this time...?

He'd always protected Tony. Back at MIT... he'd brought him home from Afghanistan... he'd berated him for not letting him know he was dying because the very same Arc reactor that was supposed to keep him alive had been poisoning him... He'd been there through all of it. As Tony had been there for him when he'd needed him most.

 _Why couldn't he have protected him now?_

A strangled sob escaped from the colonel as he staggered back a couple steps, allowing his legs to give out from under him. But a strong, sturdy pair of arms caught him before he could hit the floor, and he quickly looked up to see that Happy was gazing back down at him with concern, but also understanding, in his red, tear-stained face. Rhodey met his gaze for only a moment before allowing the tears to overtake him.

The head of security didn't say a word as the other man broke down, simply allowing him to get everything out as he supported him. Not only did he know his friend would appreciate it, but he didn't know if there was anything he could say to alleviate the pain that was eating away at both of them. At least it was something they could endure together since it was a burden they shared.

It didn't take long for the sobs to quiet and the tears to slow. Rhodey took a deep, shuddering breath as he willed himself to regain his composure, and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "How... how's everyone else doing...?" he asked thickly. "Pepper? The kid?"

Happy's gaze faltered. "Pepper's locked herself in their old room," he answered quietly, helping the other man to regain his footing. "Peter... I was with him for a little while after he, Natasha, and Sam returned from the school. Talked to him a bit. He seemed... well, he seemed shellshocked, for lack of a better word. He then asked to have a few minutes alone."

Rhodey arched an eyebrow. "And you let him go off by himself _now_ of all times?"

"Kid could kick my ass or break me in half in a heartbeat if he tried," Happy grumbled. "But he didn't go far, he's just holed himself up in a guest room. I've got F.R.I.D.A.Y. keeping an eye on him. She'll alert me if he needs something. Same with Peps. I'll be checking back up on them soon." He sighed. "I just wanted to check in on you first."

"Yeah, well... thanks. I'll be fine." Rhodey took a deep breath, unable to meet the other man's eyes as he instead cast his gaze back to the window. Though neither mentioned what had just happened. It wasn't needed.

They were both silent for neither one knew how long before Rhodey spoke up again, quietly and almost to himself more than his companion.

"I was supposed to protect him... I failed."

Happy let out a heavy sigh. "We both failed him," he corrected.

Rhodey glanced back over at him, and the head of security shrugged. "I know I was hired and paid to watch over Tony and protect him since not only did a lot of people wanna bring him harm, but you know as well as I do that he got himself into a lot of those situations himself." He paused with a chuckle as the other man smiled knowingly. "But it was what I wanted to do. I loved that man. Hell, he... and you and Pepper... are the only family I have. Other than my mom, but she's not all that supportive... Hell, what am I saying? You get it."

The colonel nodded. "Yeah, Hap, I get it," he muttered. "You guys are my only family, too. Which is what makes this so damned difficult. We couldn't do what we were supposed to do. Tony... he's gone, man..."

Happy felt a thin line of tears returning, but he stubbornly refused to let them fall. He couldn't do that to either of them at the moment. To hear the other man say the painful reality he knew they'd both been trying not to give voice to out loud was something he wasn't entirely prepared for. "Yeah. He is," he agreed quietly, his voice breaking ever so slightly. "And we can't change that. We can't... we can't take back that neither one of us could save him, could keep him safe like we were supposed to do. But... but there is something we _can_ do."

Rhodey met his gaze again. "And what's that?" he wondered.

The head of security smiled slightly, furiously blinking away his tears. "We can protect the people he loved," he told him. "The people that he'd protected without a second thought. The people he'd want us to protect now that he can't. Pepper... and Peter. We may have failed Tony, but we don't have to fail them."

A moment passed before the colonel smiled. "Yeah," he murmured. "I like the sound of that." He saw Happy return the look before he turned back to the window, his gaze landing on the billowing black smoke that continued to swallow up the stars. The same smoke that had consumed the life of one they had both cherished.

But Happy was right, he knew. After all the years of making sure they didn't, they'd failed Tony. He had slipped away from them, no doubt protecting the teenager who was closer to his heart than he'd ever admitted when he was alive. The least they could do was protect those the billionaire had loved in his stead.

And Rhodey knew that he would give anything to make sure they were safe. Because he loved Pepper, too, and Peter had certainly grown on him in the short time they'd been working together.

Yes, he would do everything in his power to make sure those his best friend had loved most were safe in his memory. Even if it meant giving his last breath to do it. As he knew Happy would.

It was the least they could do for Tony now.

* * *

 _"That shield doesn't belong to you..."_

The large weight room echoed with the sound of fist connecting solidly with punching bag as Steve stood alone in the corner, his eyes narrowed and his breathing ragged as he pounded all of his rage, his grief, his guilt into the machine. The emotions that fueled him had nowhere else to go as they threatened to either devour him from the inside or tear their way out of him, and while all he could think of was burying his fists into the body of whoever had claimed the life of one of their own, this would have to do while he didn't have a face to go by.

 _"You don't deserve it..."_

Steve grit his teeth as his next hit landed with even more force. The punching bag flailed dangerously.

He'd been without that shield for quite some time since he'd been on the run. And deep down, he couldn't help but feel that he may be better off without it. There was a part of him that agreed with the familiar voice that echoed loudly in his ears over the rapid pulse of each strike that landed.

He didn't deserve that shield and what it stood for. Somewhere along the way, he'd lost that as the world around him jaded him.

 _"My father made that shield!"_

Howard Stark. While with his flaws, he'd deserved the shield he'd created more than he did.

As had his son.

Steve cried out as he hit the machine with all the strength he had. The punching bag flew off the chain and connected with the wall across from him, bursting open on impact. Sand spilled all over the floor, joining the piles already there from previous bags.

The Super Soldier stood still for a long moment, surveying the damage, as he took deep, rapid breaths. Other than that, there were no other sounds in the room. For the first time since he'd been there, Tony's last words to him weren't playing on a loop in his mind. Taunting him. Haunting him.

He dropped to a crouch, closing his eyes as he brushed some of his hanging, sweat-drenched hair out of his face. His muscles ached, but he didn't pay them any mind. It was a small price to pay.

But no amount of pain would erase the image of Tony's face– filled with fear and betrayal– the last time he had seen him, nor his bruised, bloodied, and burned features he'd glimpsed on the news report from his mind. Because that was his fault.

He had done that.

Steve slowly opened his eyes, his chest continuing to heave as he gazed blankly at the room around him. It wasn't the first time he'd lost soldiers in battle, and as long as the world kept fighting itself, he felt that it wouldn't be the last. He'd regrettably lost many under his command back during the War. He'd lost a member of the team– a misguided kid who'd been trying to turn his life around like his sister had– when he'd been called to lead the Avengers.

But even with his leadership, he'd never questioned that Tony had been the heartbeat of the team, the soul and essence of what they'd stood for and kept them going. Once that had dimmed– by his hand– they had all drifted apart.

And now that the pulse had stopped, that the light had faded, he didn't know what would become of them now. How could he lead a team whose foundation had crumbled and had left them with no heart? What were they without their strongest pillar, without their very spirit?

How could he continue when he knew it was all because of him?

The Super Soldier chuckled quietly under his breath, knowing that working with Tony hadn't always been simple. In fact, he wasn't even sure if it ever had been. They were much too different, there was hardly a time where they weren't clashing with each other. At the beginning when they'd worked to stop Loki from invading New York, he couldn't even stand the billionaire. He'd been egotistical, full of himself, childish. While Howard had been the same way at times, he'd also had integrity. He had been a good man. He'd searched for even a fraction of that in his son and hadn't been able to see it. Not at first.

Though at the same time, they were very much the same. They were both too stubborn for their own good most of the time. To his surprise, Tony had laid down on the wire instead of finding a way to cut it, he'd made the sacrifice play, when he'd brought a nuclear bomb through the alien wormhole to keep it from striking Manhattan. It was the last thing he'd expected from him. But in that moment, he'd seen that he had truly been Howard's son.

Steve slowly rose to his feet and turned to face the full-length mirror that covered one wall. For a moment, Tony looked back at him. He looked healthy, vibrant, and happy with his unmarred face full of laughter.

In many ways, the other man _was_ his mirror image, a reflection of certain parts of himself that he felt as though he'd lost or kept hidden. Though in others, Tony had been his foil, his opposite. He was the Jekyll to his Hyde, and in that way, they'd completed the other. They were the strength in the other's weaknesses. If they'd been given more time to get past all that had divided them, to learn how to get along better...

If only what had happened in Siberia, and all that had led up to it, had gone differently...

The Super Soldier's hand curled into a fist when he saw the Tony looking back at him from the mirror now appeared different. His smile had vanished, his eyes were troubled, his brow was furrowed in a frown, and his features were pale. That laughter was gone. And in its place was fear... betrayal.

If there was a way to turn back the hands of time, to be able to handle the events surrounding the death of the billionaire's parents differently, he would have given up anything to do it in a heartbeat. The weight of the decision of how to tell Tony that yes, Bucky had been the one responsible but had been brainwashed by Hydra, and that yes, he'd known about it, had been a heavy burden to carry. And it had been one that he'd shouldered alone. His priority had always been to protect Bucky, the one person, the brother, he'd always had when he'd had no one since the time of the War.

But Tony had deserved to know the truth about what had happened the night his parents had died. And he should have heard it from him. Zemo never should have had the opportunity to exploit it and use it to tear them all apart. If only he'd just bitten the bullet and done it himself when he'd had the chance... none of this may have happened. He'd just been too afraid, too selfish, to lose Tony that he hadn't been able to.

And after all of that, he'd lost him, anyway. He'd betrayed him and tossed aside that friendship. And now, it was for good.

 _"He's my friend, Tony."_

 _"So was I."_

Steve sighed heavily, the battle that had resulted between them replaying clearly in his mind. Every strike, every move... He remembered how he'd trapped the billionaire, using his shield to crush the Iron Man helmet, revealing his bruised and bloodied face. He remembered the flicker of fear in his hazel eyes as he'd raised his shield yet again, and how his own heart had faltered before he'd brought it down into the Arc reactor in his suit. Had he _truly_ believed that he would _kill_ him?

And... hadn't he after all?

Because of him, Earth had lost her best defender.

The Super Soldier looked up at the mirror once again to see the Tony there was looking back at him with a blank expression, void of all emotion. His face was covered in cuts, bruises, burns. His hair was singed, his shirt torn. His neck was bruised and twisted at a bit of an unnatural angle. There was no life left in his usually bright eyes. It was like he was staring right through him, into his very soul.

He'd left his shield behind, knowing that the billionaire had been right in saying that he hadn't deserved it. He'd left Tony behind in that frozen wasteland. And neither one of them had been the same.

His own bearded reflection gazed back at him now. Silent. Judging. _Guilty_.

A terrible, anguished scream broke through Steve's lips as he reared back before his fist connected with the mirror's surface, shattering that part of the glass. Tiny pieces littered the floor and dug into his hand, and he watched, unfazed, as crimson rivulets trailed down his fingers. But it wasn't his blood he saw stinging and staining his skin.

It was Tony's.

Someone else may have carried out the billionaire's murder, and he was as determined to find the ones responsible as the rest of what lingered of the team.

But he knew in his heart that he had been the one who had killed Tony Stark.

* * *

It had been the best day of his young life.

Knowing how much he loved and looked up to Tony Stark, his Uncle Ben had brought him to the Stark Expo, the first one the billionaire had held after revealing that he was indeed the masked hero known as Iron Man. He'd even brought a toy mask to bring with him that he'd bought with his own allowance money, hoping that the man he idolized would notice him. He'd gotten his wish, however briefly, as Tony's bodyguard– Happy, he remembered with slight amusement– allowed him to come backstage for a moment, where Tony had quickly signed the mask as he hurried past him. Looking back at it, the fact that the man hadn't stopped really hadn't bothered him, though now that he thought about it, something really must have been wrong at the time since he hadn't been looking too good, and yet he _still_ had taken the time to sign his toy. He had just been so overcome with emotion that he'd interacted with his hero at all.

And some time later, when his Uncle Ben had brought him to the Hammer Expo to see what new technology would be presented there, he'd worn his Iron Man mask since he'd hardly been able to part with it. He couldn't deny that he'd found it rather exciting when the robots meant to be made for the military had instead turned and started going after Iron Man, and when one of the bots had wandered close to him, he'd happily raised his hand in the same manner as Tony did when firing a repulsor blast to show that he could be just like the superhero. The robot had aimed one of its own blasts at him, mistaking him for the real Iron Man, and he'd had the greatest thrill of his life when the billionaire had rushed in and saved him, destroying the bot before it could cause any damage.

He'd told the story for years to follow.

That signed mask was still in his room somewhere, he hadn't been able to part with it.

And when Tony Stark himself had appeared in the living room of his small apartment when he'd returned from school not too long before under the guise of him being chosen for some sort of internship through Stark Industries that he hadn't even applied for, he'd felt as though he'd wandered into some sort of dream come true. The man he looked up to, the man he still considered a hero, knew all about him, knew what sort of powers he had, was _impressed_ by him. He'd wanted his help on a mission. He'd given him an upgraded suit. He'd wanted him to fight at his side. It still seemed surreal.

But then, he'd messed up everything, seemingly beyond repair. If it hadn't been for his stupidity in dealing with Toomes and the arms dealers, Tony wouldn't have had to come clean up his mess at the ferry. Tony wouldn't have had to feel like he'd have to lecture him. Neither of them would have been in a position to be ambushed.

Tony wouldn't have had to sacrifice himself for him. Tony wouldn't be dead.

And he wouldn't be wanted for his murder.

Peter sniffed as he stared down at his hands, ignoring the tears that were steadily rolling down his cheeks. The last few hours had felt as though he were in a haze, where nothing had seemed possible. How could it be possible that the billionaire was... gone? He'd been alive somewhere out there, he was _so_ certain he'd felt it. None of this made any sense... How could Tony be _dead_? It wasn't right, he knew it wasn't... It just couldn't be...

It's not that he wasn't used to death. As he'd talked about in his session with Fennhoff, his parents had been killed in a plane crash when he'd been too young to even really remember them. And then almost nine months before, his uncle had been murdered trying to stop a thief, and he'd watched, unable to do anything, as his life had slipped away.

But Tony... no, he was _alive_. He _had_ to be. This didn't feel right...

He couldn't lose _him_ , too... not like Ben...

A broken sob escaped from him as his body trembled. He closed his eyes tightly as his tears refused to stop. His heart pounded behind his ribs while he couldn't catch his breath. Unable to hold himself up anymore, he curled up on the bed in the first guest room he'd found, wrapping his arms tightly around himself in effort to anchor himself against the anxiety settling in.

Maybe Fennhoff had been right... Without fully realizing it, Peter understood that he'd been attaching himself to Tony since he, unknowingly, had started looking to him to fill a gap left behind in his life by both his own father and Ben. It was a role he'd needed, and the billionaire had been there. To lose that again...

 _... Oh, God... not again... please not again..._

 _Mr. Stark, please come back... don't leave me, please... please come back... don't go... I'm sorry... please... Mr. Stark, don't go... please..._

 _The gunshot echoed around him..._

 _Tony stepped in front of him, crying out in pain before collapsing to the rooftop, his hands pressed firmly over his abdomen to try to stop the bleeding..._

 _Tony pushed him away from him anxiously when he tried to check on him..._

 _"No, kid... Leave... get out of here... now..."_

 _Tony gave him a small smile, a spot of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth as he coughed a little..._

 _"I'll join you as soon as I can, Underoos... I'll be... right behind you..."_

Despite everything he had done... despite how he had messed up everything... despite how angry he'd made him... Tony had put himself in harm's way, possibly _died_ , to protect _him_. It was an act of mercy he hadn't deserved. It should have been him, not the older man, in that position... the billionaire had done nothing wrong...

 _Why hadn't he done_ more _?_

Peter swore under his breath as his body continued to shake _. Why_ couldn't he remember more of what had happened up on that building...? There was something tucked away in some back corner of his mind, he just knew it. Something crucial that they were missing. Something that could lead to the billionaire's whereabouts.

He couldn't be _dead_... he just _couldn't_ be... He _felt_ it...

He just had to _remember_...

The teen wasn't sure how much time had passed until his body finally stopped trembling and his breathing eased as his tears stopped and his heart rate slowed. He didn't move for a long moment before he slowly, cautiously sat up and wiped away the moisture on his cheeks with his t-shirt. _Think, Peter, think..._ He had to stay calm to be able to figure all this out. Freaking out and having a panic attack wouldn't help anyone.

Other than the news that was reporting Tony's death, the other piece of this situation that was making this difficult was Spider-Man now had an arrest warrant on him for the billionaire's murder. Which was completely ridiculous, but still, it's how it was.

But that meant he couldn't _be_ Spider-Man. The costume was too recognizable. And while he could probably handle any police officers who tried to apprehend him, that would make him look even more guilty, and... _Oh, God, I'm thinking like a criminal_...

So that was out of the question. In the continued search for answers for who had ambushed him and Tony after what happened on that ferry, he'd have to leave Spider-Man, the honorary Avenger, behind him. He'd have to move forward as Peter Parker, the anxiety-prone high school sophomore.

But would that be good enough...?

Peter sighed heavily. He wasn't sure if he could answer that question. He'd come to rely so much on that suit, on Karen, to help him. It made him who he was when he was supposed to be the hero. What would he do without it? Yes, he still had his powers, but...

He'd been unable to use them to save his Uncle Ben. He'd been unable to use them to save Tony Stark...

 _What good were they when he couldn't save the people he was supposed to?_

 _Oh, God, what am I going to do...?_

 _"If you're nothing without the suit, then you shouldn't have it."_

The billionaire's words echoed in his mind again, and the web-slinger set his jaw. Tony had been trying to teach him something, of that he was sure. That... the suit didn't make him a hero? Something like that? He knew he'd have to show not only his mentor but himself that those words were true. That he could do it. Because now he had no other choice.

He'd have to move forward without the suit. He'd have to find answers without Spider-Man. He'd have to keep going as just Peter.

And that would be enough. It just had to be. Because if Tony really _was_ dead, then he would find who was responsible. He had to. For Mr. Stark. He would have done the same for him...

Peter took a deep breath. He would find the people behind this, to get revenge on who had done this to Tony. He would make sure of it.

Mr. Stark's sacrifice wouldn't be in vain.

* * *

 _She laughed, the sound light, as Tony did the same across the table from her. His smile had eased the worried creases in his face as it touched his eyes, causing them to brighten. That special, genuine smile he seemed to reserve just for her._

 _"Do you remember?" he asked, still chuckling._

 _She shook her head slightly, taking a sip of her orange juice. "How could I forget?" she wondered instead. "Happy was so mad that we'd disappeared for so long. I seriously thought for a moment that he was going to call Rhodey on us."_

 _Tony beamed. "Seriously, I think that's the longest that man's ever lectured you," he muttered with another chuckle. "Not me, but you certainly."_

 _Her own smile returning, she cast her gaze around at the restaurant they'd used to frequent a lot when they'd been together, glad that the two of them had been given the booth in the back corner– just as they always had– so they had a little more privacy to talk and reconnect. Her heart felt light. This breakfast out was exactly the break from all that packing they'd needed, and she was thrilled that the meal and the conversation was just as effortless as it used to be._

 _It gave her hope for them yet. Maybe, just maybe..._

 _She then reached for another napkin from where the stack sat between them, pausing when her fingers brushed against the billionaire's hand. She quickly glanced up, seeing that he was looking back at her curiously. She knew this would be easy enough to pass off as an accident, a simple brush of hands, before taking the napkin and not giving it another thought._

 _But she didn't._

 _Instead, she kept her hand there, allowing the touch to linger._

 _Tony glanced down at where their hands were still barely touching, the contact feather light. A moment passed before he reached out, hesitantly, before intertwining a couple fingers with hers._

 _She couldn't help but smile._

Everything about the room was familiar from its off-white walls, striped rug, lava lamp, and the dark blue bed sheets. Even the framed picture of the two of them– a candid from a press event they'd been at where they'd been laughing together at some private joke– still sat on the nightstand.

It was all exactly as she remembered. Tony hadn't changed a thing, even though he wasn't staying in that room as often as he'd used to. It was still their space.

Pepper took a few steps further into the room that she'd shared with him whenever they'd stayed at the Tower for any reason. There were a lot of good memories she had from spending time there– late night talks about anything and everything, listening to his newest ideas when his brain refused to shut off, a quiet place of refuge when the rest of the world got too loud.

But there were also the nights filled with nightmares. With bickering. With silence. Though aside from troubling dreams, those were few and far between. Overall, this had been a comfort space, a place that was theirs, a place they could call their home away from home.

Oh, how she wished that's still how it could be. While it was still that same space since nothing was out of place or different, there was still something crucial that was missing. The most important thing that made this space theirs was gone.

And wouldn't be coming back.

 _Tony_.

 _Tony was gone..._

 _Why had she ever left?_

 _If she hadn't..._

Pepper took a deep breath as her chest tightened, a thin line of tears forming in her eyes. If she hadn't left... would he still be here now? If she'd stayed instead of walking away when he'd needed her, if she'd stayed to work through their conflicts... if she'd helped him deal with the stress of the Accords, if she'd been there to help him through finding out the truth of what had happened to his parents... could things have turned out differently? Tony had said that he'd never blamed her for walking away since he knew the impossible situation he put her in a lot of the time. And the constant worry about him every time he'd put on the suit had caused such a strain that she'd just had to step away. To breathe.

Though deep down, she'd known she'd go back. She hadn't planned to stay away too long. She knew she loved him because she always had, ever since she'd worked as his assistant. Because despite how he'd been with women at the time, and the reputation he'd had, he'd never been that way with her. Other than the occasional joke or harmless flirtatious remark, that is. But he'd always respected her, treated her as an equal, valued the work she did, trusted her. She'd realized what she felt for him after she'd heard what had happened to him in Afghanistan, her fear that'd lasted the entire three months he'd been in captivity, the immense relief she'd felt when she'd heard he was coming home...

But it had always been there. It had still been there when she'd walked away. And it was still there now.

She'd stayed away too long. She'd come back too late. She couldn't save him.

Pepper slowly sank down on the bed, her legs shaking too much to support her. She hadn't watched the breaking news report covering the discovery of Tony's body– she'd nearly collapsed in the penthouse when Steve came to inform her and Happy, and she would have if the Super Soldier hadn't been right there to catch her. She couldn't bring herself to see the images from down at the harbor, couldn't bring herself to see _him_. Burned, bruised... _broken_. That wasn't the way she wanted to think of him, to remember him.

Instead, the CEO reached out and picked up the framed photo on the nightstand to get a better look at it. At first, she'd been irritated at Happy for sneaking this picture, but then she'd realized how special it was and decided to have it framed. She lightly traced her fingertips over the glass. Tony looked so carefree, his smile broad without the weight of the world burdening him down. And she was lingering close to him, laughing effortlessly. She couldn't remember exactly what joke it'd been, but she certainly remembered how they'd felt together here.

Effortless. Easy. Happy. Just as it had been again– for the first time in a long time– for them the morning he'd asked her to join him for breakfast before he'd disappeared. It had felt just like she saw them in this picture. She thought about how they'd held hands, how at times their faces had been so close that they easily could have closed that lingering gap if they'd wanted to. How she _had_ wanted to, but felt it hadn't quite been the right time. There'd been something he'd wanted to tell her, she'd been able to tell, though she hadn't pushed him on it. She'd figured he'd tell her when he was ready.

But now, he wouldn't get the chance. They'd been so close to starting to work their way back to where they'd once been, she'd felt it.

But now...

Pepper clumsily set the photograph aside, unable to see it through the tears falling steadily from her eyes. Her body shook with sobs, and she laid back against the pillows before wrapping her arms protectively around herself and bringing her knees close to her.

 _Tony was dead._

The words were still foreign to her, her brain couldn't process them. She'd always known this was a possibility, ever since he'd donned the Iron Man suit and joined the Avengers Initiative. Ever since he'd brought a nuclear missile through a wormhole. There had been some close calls and false alarms over the years, but this time... this time was different.

There was a quiet whisper in her heart, a feeling of hope that the billionaire was still alive out there somewhere. She'd know if he was dead, she was sure of it. But it was crushed by the grief of reality.

 _The man she loved was dead._

Pepper grabbed one of the pillows, hugging it to her chest as her body trembled, and buried her face in the soft material in effort to stifle her sobs. Instantly, she was hit by the nearly overwhelming essence of Tony. The pillow smelled like him, consuming her senses. His shampoo, the minty aftershave he used... the familiar scents she'd come to associate with him. While she had been using a guest room at the Tower, he had stayed _here_...

It was comforting, in a way. Almost like he was still with her.

But at the same time...

She tightened her hold on the pillow, desperately clutching any lingering trace of him close to her since she wasn't willing to let him go, as a loud, pained wail escaped from her.

* * *

When Peter wandered into the penthouse, he saw he wasn't alone.

Sam, Scott, Natasha, and Clint were standing at one of the bars, each with a drink in their hand as they talked in quiet tones. Wanda was stretched out on one of the couches, appearing to be deep in thought, while Vision sat next to her, staring blankly into space. Steve sat on the arm of another couch, focused on wrapping some bandages around his right hand. Rhodey stood at the large windows, staring out at where the thick, dark smoke was still billowing into the night sky. Pepper and Happy were nowhere to be seen.

Sorrow... anger... guilt... regret... It was all so palpable that the air was thick with emotion. The teen found it hard to breathe.

Why was everyone feeling so guilty? Why wasn't there more blame? At him?

"I... I'm sorry, everyone," he mumbled, his voice cracking as more tears rose to his eyes and threatened to fall. "I... I should have done more... to save him..."

The room went silent as everyone turned to look at him. Sam and Scott exchanged sympathetic glances. Clint sighed heavily while Natasha's face seemed to soften ever so slightly. Wanda slowly sat up while Vision's gaze saddened. Steve paused and looked up from what he was doing while Rhodey shook his head.

The Captain stood while the colonel took a couple steps away from the windows. They paused, gazing at each other intently for a moment before Rhodey continued walking toward the web-slinger. Peter noticed that the leg braces seemed to be giving him a bit of a hard time, but then he looked up into the man's face as he stopped in front of him. He saw his stern expression soften.

"It's not your fault, kid," Rhodey assured him quietly. "Tony would have done anything he could to make sure you were safe."

The words didn't do much to absolve his guilt, and the teen hated when a few of his tears fell as his shoulders began to shake. He wanted the Avengers to take him seriously, like someone who could help them avenge Tony. He didn't want them to see him like this, like he was weak...

Without a word, the Colonel reached out and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close as Peter finally gave in and clung to him tightly.

With a sigh, Steve slowly made his way over to them. Rhodey met his gaze, and he was surprised to see gratitude there. He set a comforting hand on Peter's shaking back, not too surprised when the web-slinger reached out with one hand and tightly grasped his arm.

Before the Captain could offer any words of comfort, the elevator dinged.

They all turned toward the source of the sound, the glowing numbers above the doors starting to rise as the elevator made its way up. Someone else was in the Tower.

"Anyone else you know planning on joining us, Rhodey?" Clint asked as he set his drink down.

"No," the Colonel answered stiffly. "No one else has a key, and this place is locked up tight."

"Well, they got in somehow," Steve muttered. He left Rhodey and Peter and crossed the room, making sure he was standing between the occupants of the penthouse and the elevator. Clint joined him while Sam and Natasha stood on the Captain's other side.

"We doing this fight here and now?" Scott wondered as he and Wanda took their places behind them, Vision hovering close to the latter.

"Be ready," Natasha told him evenly.

From where they still stood closer to the windows, Rhodey tightened his hold around Peter's shoulders. The teen tensed, watching as the numbers continued to rise before stopping at the floor of the penthouse.

The elevator dinged again. Everyone tensed, prepared.

A moment later, the doors slid open. Two people stepped out. Everyone stared in disbelief.

The bald man who'd stepped into the penthouse first wore a black leather jacket, his hands tucked in the pockets as he surveyed the group with one piercing eye. The second was covered by a black eye patch. A slender woman with her black hair tied back in a ponytail wearing a brown bomber jacket stood a step behind him.

Nick Fury shook his head slightly as he looked at all the shocked faces staring back at him.

"Well, well, well. _Now_ y'all are assembled."

 **Author's Note** : That ending section was originally going to start the next chapter, but I decided that Nick Fury's entrance demanded the ending of this one, lol. Muchas gracias to **CoffeeRanger** for some ideas with the Pepper section! And thank you all for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. And as we keep going, expect anything. Until next time!


	17. Chapter 17- Director's Lament

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit. I also do not own Fury's beginning quote.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Hey, guys! Thank you for your reviews, favorites, and follows, they keep me going! I'm glad you guys liked the last, rather depressing, chapter. So, how will the scattered Avengers go on from here without Tony? Let's find out, shall we? Though I'd like to make a quick **disclaimer** here that there's a **minor spoiler** for _Ant-Man and the Wasp_ if you haven't seen it yet in something that Lang says. However, it doesn't necessarily ruin the plot of the movie itself, as it relates more to the airport battle in Civil War, but still, I want to throw this out there.

In response to **KKarate** : Thank you for your reviews for earlier chapters! I'm glad you're enjoying this so much! And thank you for raising your point about humor. Overall, this story isn't meant to be funny. Though that doesn't mean that I'm against humor! It just means that there will be stretches where there isn't much humor since the focus will be on the more angsty/dramatic character building plot points. But there certainly will be moments where– as long as it fits with the characters or what's going on with the plot itself– there is humor. I just don't want to force it since that'll give the story an inorganic feel. Though I do have some bigger humor moments planned as this continues and we get closer to the end!

In response to **Guest** : Thank you so much! I'm glad to hear you love it! Here's the next chapter!

In response to **Guest** : Here's the next chapter! :-)

 _Chapter 17– Director's Lament_

"There was an idea to bring together a remarkable group of people," Fury said, slowly pacing in front of the group that was now sitting on the couches in the penthouse, listening to him in silence. His gaze landed on each one of them. "To see if they could become something more. So when they needed you, you could fight the battles that they never could."

He paused next to Maria Hill with a sigh, his eye saddening as he stuck his hands in his pockets. "Remember that?"

For a long moment, no one said a word. Scott looked around uncomfortably while Peter tried to make himself as small as possible, focusing instead on petting Lily– who had curled up on the couch next to his leg– behind the ears. Neither one had any idea what the former S.H.I.E.L.D. director was talking about.

The rest of the group, however, felt the brunt of his disappointment. Clint rested his chin on his folded hands, his gaze downcast. Natasha stared directly ahead at Fury, her expression impassive. Sam sighed heavily, closing his eyes as he passed a hand over his face. Wanda and Vision exchanged hesitant looks. Rhodey hung his head. Steve let out a long breath as he nodded slightly.

"Now. I know that Thor and Banner can't be accounted for at the moment, so I can't speak for them," Fury continued when everyone else remained silent. "But the rest of you _can_ be spoken for. And I want to know what the _hell_ y'all think you're doing. Have you lost sight of the reason we've brought all of you together?" He paused again, arching an eyebrow. "Now, there are a couple of you I don't recognize..."

"Oh, sorry, sir. I'm Scott. Scott Lang," the ex-con spoke up nervously. "Um, Cap had me come in and help him with, uh... some dispute that I really know nothing about, but... I'm, um, I'm Ant-Man."

Fury regarded him curiously. "Ant-Man, huh?" he wondered. "You mean that tech that Hank Pym was working on?"

Scott's brow furrowed. "You know Hank?"

"He used to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. before he began his own company," Fury explained, to which the other man slowly nodded. "Shame, a lot of those ideas he was working on would have been beneficial for us. How did you get a hold of that suit?"

"Um, well, see, he trained me to be the new Ant-Man," Scott explained before a sheepish grin appeared on his face. "Although I kinda... _borrowed_ the suit without permission to go to Germany and help Cap, so... Hank would be pretty pissed if he knew."

The director shrugged. "He won't hear it from me. He's not our biggest fan," he muttered before turning his gaze to the teenager. "And you are, son?"

Peter quickly looked up, startled. "Oh, me? I'm, uh, well... I'm Peter Parker," he mumbled. He glanced around him, seeing that Rhodey was giving him an encouraging nod. "And I'm... I'm Spider-Man."

Fury's face remained impassive, and the web-slinger's heart skipped a beat. Hadn't the news _just_ reported there was a warrant out for his arrest for the murder of one of the same remarkable people the man had just been speaking of? "I... I swear I didn't kill Mr. Stark..."

To his surprise, the director's stern features softened ever so slightly as he shook his head once. "Seeing you here, I didn't think you did," he told him, and the fifteen-year-old immediately felt relief flood through him. "Just didn't realize how young you were, is all. Although, if I were still the director of S.H.I.E.L.D., at least in the way we once were, you would have gotten a call from me, young man. I've seen some of what you can do, and I must say, I'm impressed. You and I may have to have a chat at some point, Mr. Parker. Same with you, Mr. Lang."

Peter stared at the man in disbelief. Nick Fury, the former director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the creator of the Avengers Initiative, would have wanted to get in touch with _him_? He was impressed with _him_? He would have been considered for _the_ _Avengers_? That didn't even feel possible...

"Now, back to the business at hand." Fury sighed, regret in his gaze. He passed a stressed hand over the top of his head. "I chose or confirmed each of you because I believed that you could put aside your egos and work to be something greater than yourselves. That you could be that force that would fight the battles that no one else could when you were needed to. I know at one time, you all believed that, too. But so far, you're not doing much to prove me right. And–!"

"It's my fault, Nick."

The director paused, raising an eyebrow as he looked back at Steve.

The Captain sighed. "I blamed Tony for tearing the Avengers apart when he signed the Accords, but–!"

"Ah, yes. That bullshit," Fury interrupted with a smile. "Now, I get that ya'll had differing opinions on if they should have been signed or not, and y'all had your reasons for whatever side of the matter you chose. And I'm sure each of you felt you were right. Stark included. But quite frankly, I also thought y'all would've handled your differences like adults!"

Rhodey took a deep breath. "What would you have done, sir?" he asked. "Secretary Ross gave us an ultimatum that the UN supported. We were put in a position to either choose being able to continue operating, just with government control, or not at all. I... I know it wasn't a great choice, and neither option was the best, but..."

"Personally? I would've told Ross to go ahead and shove those Accords where the sun don't shine." Fury chuckled. "Look. You should all know how I feel about certain people in government roles sticking their noses in our business. They make stupid ass decisions. Remember the Chitauri invasion? And Ross? Hell, I haven't trusted him for _years_. Even back when he was a general before he handled the whole Hulk situation terribly. So yeah, I would not have signed those documents. Nor would I have had any of you sign them. But I do understand the rationale of those who did.

"But the important part we have to remember here is we need to stay together. You can't fight each other. No matter what, the safest hands are our own. You _need_ to stay together. Now more than ever. Because when you're not..." His sentence trailed off. "Look at it this way. If something big were to happen... and I mean _big_... bigger than Loki, bigger than Ultron... what are you going to do? Sit on your hands and wait for the government to decide if and when you're able to get involved in the threat? While you wait on your ass, people die. But the Accords aren't the focus here."

"The focus is what do we do now that we've lost one of our own," Maria added quietly.

Steve took a deep breath. "It isn't just the Accords, Nick."

Fury turned his eye back to the Captain. "Care to enlighten us, then?" he wondered.

A moment passed before Steve met his gaze. The director clearly saw the remorse there.

"Tony and I... well, we had a falling out," the Super Soldier explained. He felt the intense gazes of most the Avengers resting on him. "He... found out the truth about how his parents died. Their murders. He found out that Bucky was responsible. That I knew about it. That I hadn't found a way to tell him yet."

Fury gazed back at him almost thoughtfully for a long moment. He didn't seem surprised. "So I'm guessing Stark believed you'd chosen Barnes." It wasn't a question.

Steve nodded, lowering his gaze. "And then Bucky and I left him behind there. In Siberia," he finished quietly. "But we wouldn't have if we didn't think he'd be okay."

Peter's gaze widened as he processed the Captain's confession. Barnes... the Winter Soldier... had _killed_ Tony's parents? And _Captain America_ had _known_ about it? Had left Tony _behind_? How...?

But then, he realized, seeing Barnes up on that rooftop made a little more sense now. While had had no personal connection to the assassin, other than their brief encounter at the German airport... Tony _did_. Their connection was _very_ personal. That had to mean that their assailant _had_ to know what had happened between Tony and Steve, including all these more personal details...

Fury let out a long breath, crossing his arms as he took all this information in. "Well, that's certainly more than the Accords," he muttered.

"And could have been prevented," Rhodey spoke up.

Defeat crossed Steve's face as he looked back up at the director. "It could have been," he agreed quietly. "I just... and it's stupid thinking back on it now, but..."

"As most things are," Fury interrupted gently.

The Super Soldier nodded in agreement. "I didn't want to lose that friendship with Tony," he told him. "I thought telling him the truth would... well, I was trying to find the best way to tell him. But Zemo got to him first."

The director considered all of this information. "I'm sure if we could, there's something we all could take back or change here," he addressed the group. "Stark may have been a major pain in my ass, but I cared about him, too. Just as I did his dad. Everything Stark did when it came to the Avengers, he did for the rest of you. So now, we figure out who did this." His eye rested on Peter, and the teen felt himself recoil slightly even though he knew he wasn't being blamed.

Steve took a deep breath, determination in his gaze. "And we do it together."

* * *

 _Everything_ hurt _._

 _Peter groaned when he tried to move his stiff body, every muscle protesting as he did. His very nerve endings felt as though they were on fire._

 _What had happened...?_

 _"... Pe... Peter...?"_

 _The teen's breath caught in his chest at the voice._ Tony _. It was weak, it was pained, but there was no doubt in his mind that it was the billionaire._

 _He... he was_ alive _?_

 _"Mr... Mr. Stark?" A thin line of tears formed in Peter's eyes as he got his first good look at his surroundings. A small room, damp and dark. It was empty aside from the second person slumped against the wall across from him._

 _He was bloodied, bruised, pale, and shivering, but it was undoubtedly Tony Stark._

 _He was_ breathing _. He was_ alive _. He_ knew _he couldn't have been dead..._

 _"I'm coming, Mr. Stark!" The web-slinger scrambled to his feet, holding back a scream as he almost crumpled again when the pain nearly doubled. But he did his best to ignore it as he dashed over to the other man and crouched next to him._

 _Up close, the billionaire looked even worse. He seemed thinner than normal, his face gaunt. His glazed eyes seemed far away, and there was definitely fear in his gaze._

 _"Mr. Stark? What can I do?" Peter wondered anxiously, carefully setting a light hand on his shoulder._

 _The touch seemed to, at least somewhat, bring Tony out of whatever part of his mind he was trapped in. He jumped slightly as he turned his face toward the teen, his gaze clearing ever so slightly. "Pe... Peter..." he mumbled, panic crossing his face. "Wh... what are you... doing here...?"_

 _Peter's eyes narrowed in confusion. "I'm... I'm here to get you out of here," he told him. "Wherever_ here _is..."_

 _To his surprise, the billionaire gathered enough strength to knock him off balance as he tried to shove him away from him. "N-no... you need to... get out... while you have the chance... Before they... come back..."_

 _The teen looked back at him with wide eyes. "Before who gets back?" he pressed. "Mr. Stark, who?"_

 _Though he felt that deep down, the answer was already there._

 _But Tony was fading fast, that little burst costing him quite a bit of much needed energy. He slumped back against the wall, his head rolling toward his shoulder as his gaze glazed over again. His breathing slowed, and his eyes drooped shut._

 _A jolt of panic surged through Peter, and he immediately leaned forward and tightly grasped his mentor's arms. "No... no... Mr. Stark!" he cried, shaking him gently. "Come back... come on, please... don't go... please come back... don't go... please!"_

 _But no matter what he said, his pleas fell on deaf ears. Tony remained unresponsive._

 _Then, the door to the room crashed open, flooding the space with bright light._

 _Peter squinted as a couple tall, well-built figures entered the room. He swore under his breath when he couldn't make out any distinguishing features. He remained crouched in front of Tony protectively. They wouldn't get to him, he refused to let them._

 _But then, two pairs of hands grabbed him roughly, and the web-slinger cried out as he was ripped away from the billionaire. He frantically tried to fight out of their grasp, but they held on tight as they dragged him toward the open door._

 _"No... no... Mr. Stark! Help!"_

 _Tony remained still._

 _"Mr. Stark!"_

Peter's eyes snapped open with a gasp, fighting out of the blankets he felt were constricting him before realizing he was in his bed in his room, not in the clutches of a couple unknown thugs being pulled away from Tony in who knew where...

 _Tony_.

The teen quickly sat up, nearly upending the signed toy Iron Man mask resting on the bed near him. He realized it'd been a dream... a nightmare, honestly... but it all felt so _real_. The billionaire had _felt_ alive... No matter what the news reports said, he hadn't lost the feeling that his mentor was still out there somewhere, but... His senses were tying to tell him _something_ with that dream. Of that, he was sure.

 _But what?_

With a quiet groan, Peter turned to the alarm clock on the nightstand, seeing that it was almost noon. Thank God it was Saturday. But even with sleeping in as much as he had, he still grumbled under his breath as he shoved the blankets aside and clambered out of bed. He turned back briefly and picked up the signed Iron Man mask he'd found buried in his closet when he'd gotten home the night before, his gaze studying Tony's hurried signature.

 _Is it possible you're still alive, Mr. Stark...?_

He then set the toy carefully on the nightstand before he opened the door and ambled out into the hallway as he made his way toward the kitchen.

When he stepped into the living room, Peter paused, his senses on high alert. The apartment was strangely quiet– the television was off, nothing was going on in the kitchen, his aunt's door had been closed...

"May?" he called warily. It was weird that she wasn't around, especially after the way she'd fussed over him when he got back late from the Tower after hearing the news of his mentor's death all over the news. He'd been frustrated that he couldn't completely confide in his aunt about all of the different emotions that were raging war beneath the surface.

She couldn't know his secret, not now...

But being Saturday, she typically wasn't scheduled for work, and he didn't think she'd had any community events planned. Not that he wasn't a little relieved he didn't have to face her again so soon after he'd completely freaked out on her, but...

"... May?"

The web-slinger slowly wandered into the kitchen, his gaze darting every which way, and he let out a quiet breath when he saw a note on the table. Of course, even though both of them owned working cell phones, she still insisted on writing notes the old fashioned way. A slight smile tugged at his lips as he walked over and picked up the note and quietly read over his aunt's neat handwriting.

 _Thought I'd let you rest in. I didn't want to wake you, you need your sleep. There's some fixings for breakfast tacos in the fridge if you're hungry. But please, make sure to eat something. I arranged a lunch meeting with the CEO of Stark Industries since you said she was in charge of your internship now–_

Peter paused in his reading, stunned. May had a meeting with _Pepper_? Granted, he'd given her numbers to reach people to keep up the guise of the internship, but... Since when? _Why_? He'd have to ask one of them more about it later. He continued reading.

 _–since there were some important things I wanted to discuss with her. I should be home a bit later this afternoon, I'm going to get some grocery shopping done after. Let me know if you're going somewhere before I get back._

 _I larb you._

 _May_

He had a pretty good idea of what "important things" his aunt wanted to talk to Pepper about considering the state he'd been in when he'd gotten home the night before, and he groaned. Hopefully, she didn't try to convince the CEO to drop him from his fake internship since that would take away one of his main excuses to visit the Tower whenever he could. He had to hope it wouldn't come to that.

Speaking of the Tower...

Peter jogged back down the hall to the bathroom to hurriedly freshen up and get ready. Pretty much everyone was still gathered there, and he wanted to help put the pieces together of what had happened up on that building before it had exploded to try to get some clue about who could have been responsible for the attack. Not to mention, Rhodey had repeated something that he'd already been told– until they were absolutely certain that there was no threat to him, the safest place to spend his free time was with them. He was also secretly hoping that he could get that chat in with Fury that the man had mentioned the night before, if he had stuck around. According to the rest of the Avengers, no one could be sure where the former S.H.I.E.L.D. director was going to be at any given time.

After washing his face, brushing his teeth, and throwing on a fresh t-shit and jeans, the web-slinger made his way back to the kitchen. He grabbed the notepad and pen from the counter and scribbled his own message back to May.

 _Spending the day at Ned's. We've got the Lego_ Millennium Falcon _to build now. Be home later. I'll call if it's later than I planned._

 _Thanks for the breakfast tacos._

 _Larb you, too._

 _Peter_

His stomach grumbled as he set the note on the table next to his aunt's. Grinning, Peter hurried to the fridge and threw together a couple of those breakfast tacos for himself– two tortillas filled with scrambled eggs, potatoes, onions, peppers, crispy bacon bits, some shredded cheese, and a little salsa– before wrapping them up to take along. He then grabbed a bottle of chocolate milk to go along with them before finding his wallet and spare apartment keys and dashing out the doors.

The subway was packed that afternoon when he boarded, and the teen found himself standing and gripping a handle above him to keep steady as he finished up one of his breakfast tacos. He knew that Happy would be frustrated with him for not giving him a call to get to the Tower since they didn't necessarily want him going anywhere on his own, but he figured the head of security was busy since he'd probably gone with Pepper to her lunch meeting with May. No chance could be taken with the CEO, either. And he had Rhodey's number, but he didn't want to bother him, either. Especially since it seemed like something was bothering him physically with the injury and resulting paralysis he'd suffered in Germany. Something with his braces seemed to be giving him difficulty. If the colonel allowed him to, he wanted to take a look at them to see if he could fix them. The mechanisms seemed simple enough from the brief look he'd gotten at them.

He knew that the rest of the Avengers were concerned about his safety since they still weren't sure of their attacker's motives, and he appreciated it. But he'd navigated the subway plenty, and it was a place he felt comfortable.

But as the teen took a long sip of his chocolate milk, getting ready to make his way toward the nearest exit since his stop was next, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He froze before cautiously chancing a glance over his shoulder when he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. But the train car was so full that he really couldn't get a close enough look at anyone. Nothing seemed to be too out of the ordinary, at least, but the feeling remained.

The subway came to a stop, the doors sliding open with a quiet _ding_. Peter waited for a couple people to get off ahead of him before he stepped out himself. His senses weren't so nearly on alert in the bustling station, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief before he hurried up the steps two at a time that would bring him to the street.

The web-slinger finished off his second breakfast taco and milk by the time he'd walked the roughly nine blocks it took to get to the Tower, and he threw everything away and quickly brushed his hands off on his jeans as he approached the building. He stared up at the looming letter "A" high above him and frowned.

 _Oh_.

This was the first time he'd ever arrived at the Tower on his own, and while he was welcomed there, that didn't mean he had the keys to get in. Especially given the current situation, it was locked up tight.

Taking a deep breath, he dialed the only number he could.

 _"What's going on, kid?"_ Rhodey asked when he picked up.

"Yeah, uh, well, Mr. Colonel, Sir..." Peter began, though he was interrupted by the chuckle on the other end.

 _"We've been over this, kid. It's just Rhodey."_

"Right." Peter allowed a little laugh himself, knowing they probably wouldn't be quite so cheerful in a minute. "Well, anyway, Rhodey. I'm, uh... I'm outside the Tower."

The silence that followed was expected, and the web-slinger cringed.

 _"You're what?"_ the colonel finally wondered.

"I-I know," Peter quickly muttered. "I'm not supposed to, y'know, necessarily go anywhere unless I notify one of you right now, but–!"

 _"Damn right."_ Rhodey sighed. _"It's all right, kid. I'm, uh, I'm a little tied up at the moment, but I'll send someone down to let you up. Hold on tight, okay?"_

"Okay." Peter hung up and slipped his phone in the pocket of his jeans. He glanced around him as he waited, but still, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and the sense that he was being watched hadn't returned. At least it didn't seem like he was being followed.

A couple minutes later, a figure with long, light hair appeared in the lobby, and Peter's eyes widened slightly when he recognized Scarlet Witch as she passed by the empty front desk. He'd seen her the night before, but they hadn't really talked to each other at all. She approached the doors, quickly unlocking them and pushing one open to let him in with a small smile.

"Thanks," the teen said as he stepped inside. He waited until she locked up again before they both made their way over to the elevator. "It's Wanda, right?"

She glanced over at him as she hit the up arrow, the doors of the nearest elevator sliding open. "Yes," she answered as they stepped in. She hit the button for the level of the penthouse, the doors sliding closed. "And you're... Peter? The spider boy?"

"Spider-Man, actually..." the web-slinger mumbled, feeling color creep up to his cheeks when he saw the slight smirk that appeared at the corner of her lips. _Oh, boy, this is awkward..._ Though as he studied her pale, pretty features, he couldn't help but notice how young she actually looked. She couldn't have been much older than he was.

"Is there something you want to ask me?"

Peter was taken off guard by her matter-of-fact tone. "How... how did...?"

Wanda turned to him with a genuine smile this time. "I can feel it," she replied. "Go on and ask. We're on the same side now, after all."

The teen remembered back to the airport battle. They'd been on opposite sides then. He hadn't come across her path too often, but he _did_ know that she was a force to be reckoned with.

"So, like... what all can you do?" he wondered, hoping it wasn't coming across as rude. "Other than, y'know, apparently feel my emotions and read my mind?"

Wanda turned her gaze ahead of them, watching as the numbers steadily rose as they got closer to the penthouse. "I can move things with my mind," she explained. "Communicate through my mind. Manipulate energy to my will. Show you your deepest, darkest, most secret fears."

Peter stiffened slightly.

"Most people are afraid of what I can do because they don't understand it," she finished quietly, flashing him a resigned, almost sad, smile.

The web-slinger felt his muscles relax at the look. "That's how most people are about most things they don't understand. It's a natural reaction." He inwardly cursed himself. That probably wasn't the right thing to say, and it certainly didn't help. "For the record, I think it's cool! Were you, like... _born_ with those abilities?"

This caused Wanda to laugh. "No," she replied with a brief shake of her head. Amusement lingered in her eyes. "Not with the abilities. Though my... my brother always used to say I was empathetic when we were growing up."

Peter caught her slight hesitation at the mention of her brother as the light left her gaze. It was a look he was all too familiar with. But considering this was their first formal meeting, and the first time they'd ever talked, he knew he'd be overstepping his bounds asking about the brother she'd lost.

"Radioactive spider."

Wanda looked back at him with confusion. "What?"

The teen met her gaze. "Radioactive spider," he repeated. "That's how I got my powers. It bit me. It died, though, so... no one else can become a Spider-Man... or Spider-Woman... like me. Unless there are other radioactive spiders running around, who knows with the condition of New York's subways..."

He was surprised to see a small smile appear on Wanda's face despite his rambling. "Well, since the source of my powers is being used for something completely different now, I don't think that anyone can get my abilities anymore, either."

Peter returned the look, definitely curious about his new teammate, as the elevator came to a stop at the penthouse. Though he also thought he caught a glimpse of gratitude in her gaze, and he wondered if she could have somehow guessed his thoughts about her brother and his decision to change the topic.

The doors slid open, and Wanda stepped out first. Peter followed her into the penthouse, and he immediately spotted Rhodey sitting on one of the couches, appearing focused on something he was bending over.

"There you are, kid," the colonel said, glancing up quickly as the teen wandered over. "I'm going to give you the numbers for Steve, Nat, and Clint, too, just in case you can't reach the rest of us for some reason or another..." He whispered a curse under his breath. "Sorry, give me a second..."

Peter's brow furrowed when he saw that he was tinkering with his left leg brace. He quickly scanned them both, seeing that his initial assessment about them had been correct. "Hey, Rhodey?"

"Yeah, kid?"

The web-slinger rubbed the back of his neck. "If you want me to... if you let me... I could look over those braces for you," he muttered. "I think I see the problem in the mechanism. It shouldn't be too hard to fix it and loosen those up for you."

Rhodey gazed back at him for a moment before a small smile appeared on his face. "Tony was supposed to adjust them, but..." he began before he chuckled and pushed himself to his feet. "But you know what? I've got about an hour before I have to go somewhere with Pepper and Happy. If you think you can do something with them in that time, I'd greatly appreciate it. I think Tony's plans for them are still in the lab..."

Peter's eyes widened. "The... the lab?"

"Yup," Rhodey confirmed. "Now come on, kid, let's go."

The teen followed the colonel back into the elevator, watching as he hit a button for only a couple floors down. They were silent for a minute as the doors slid closed, and they began their descent.

"Tony used to spend so much time here," Rhodey murmured, deep in thought. "I know they moved quite a bit of the stuff over to the compound upstate already, but I also know he kept quite a bit here in case he needed to do something in an emergency. Or just felt like tinkering." A fond look crossed his face. "I think he'd like to know you were also tinkering around in there. He told me you were a smart kid."

Peter simply stared straight ahead, his eyes still wide, as he tried to take in all of this information. Tony Stark's lab... he was being brought to _Tony Stark's lab_... Rhodey simply chuckled.

The elevator stopped, and the doors slid open. The colonel stepped out, and the web-slinger had to remind his feet to move as he stumbled out after him. They walked over to the railing of what appeared to be a balcony, and if possible, Peter's eyes widened even more when he saw all the robotics, machinery, and tools stationed around the vast room beneath him.

"Whoa..."

Rhodey grinned. "It's your playground now, kid," he said, nudging him toward a nearby staircase that led down to the lab itself. "Go ahead, take a look around. I'll find the plans for those braces..."

Peter slowly tore his gaze away from what could only be described as technological heaven, even though everything that had previously been there still wasn't, a broad grin that made his cheeks hurt spreading across his face. "Yeah, okay! Thanks, this is... wow, this is _incredible_!"

The colonel nodded, nudging him again. "Go, kid! What are you waiting for?" He watched as the teen hurried down the staircase, nearly falling in his haste, before he slowly started to follow after. Though this lab had always been his best friend's sacred space, one he'd share with Banner on occasion, he felt he was definitely making the right choice with bringing Peter here, even if he hadn't wanted to help with his braces. The kid could continue a name, a legacy, that the billionaire had started.

He had no doubt in his mind it's what Tony would have wanted.

* * *

"I'm coming in with you."

"It's all right, Happy, stand down."

"... I'm still gonna linger."

The small bell jingled quietly above her head as Pepper stepped through the door of the small café with a sigh, clutching her purse close to her, with the head of security right behind her. The strong smell of fresh coffee beans and chocolate chip cookies assaulted her senses as she scanned the small room full of happily chattering people. But she felt as though she'd had no choice. This meeting had been asked for, as unexpected as it was, though she really didn't understand why the phone call about the woman's nephew and his fake Stark internship couldn't have sufficed, despite her insistence. There was nothing that could be said in person that couldn't have been said over the phone.

Happy's sharp gaze traveled over the full café. "So... which one do you think she is?" he asked quietly.

The CEO sighed. "I don't know," she answered just as quietly.

Then, she noticed an attractive brunette woman with a flowered top sitting at a table next to the window waving to them to get their attention, seeming to be waiting for them. Pepper forced a small, polite smile as she maneuvered her way across the room with Happy, clearing her throat and subtly trying to straighten her dark skirt out a bit as she stopped beside the table. "May Parker?" she wondered.

"Yes, I'm Peter's aunt." May reached out a manicured hand, which Pepper shook in greeting. "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Potts."

"You as well," Pepper replied as she sat down in the chair across from her. "This is Happy Hogan, our unofficial head of security over at Stark Industries."

Happy cleared his throat. "Former head of security who is filling out that job description again," he corrected before turning his attention to the brunette woman. He attempted to keep a straight face as he leaned forward to shake her hand, though he couldn't completely hide a hint of a smile. "Pleasure, Ms. Parker."

"Same, Mr. Hogan."

Pepper worried her bottom lip between her teeth thoughtfully as she glanced up at the head of security. "Happy, why don't you go get something for yourself?" she suggested. "I don't think we'll be too long here."

Happy looked away from May to quickly glance down at his watch. "Okay, maybe I will," he agreed. "Remember, we've only got about twenty minutes before we have to swing by and get Rhodey to head down to... well, you know..."

"I know, Happy." Pepper's gaze faltered. "Go get something for yourself."

"Okay." Happy turned back to May. "Once again, a pleasure, Ms. Parker."

The CEO watched as he then turned away from the table, making his way toward the counter. He stumbled a little when he nearly tripped over an empty chair in the packed space, and he quickly glanced over his shoulder to make sure that May hadn't seen as he righted the offending piece of furniture again before he continued on his way. She couldn't help but chuckle a little while the pretty brunette hid a smile behind her hand. "It's been an absolute pleasure to work with your nephew, Ms. Parker."

"He's a good boy," May replied, lowering her hand as she turned her attention to Pepper with a fond smile. "He was so excited when Mr. Stark chose him for his internship program... You know, my late husband took Peter to that Iron Man Expo when he was little. He sat on Ben's shoulders so he could see everything, wearing that Iron Man mask toy they had at the time... He was _so_ excited when he signed it for him. He's always been his hero. I'm sure he still has that mask somewhere..."

Pepper gave the other woman a sad smile. "Yes, Ton... Mr. Stark can certainly have that effect on people," she muttered. "He can really be larger than life." She then quickly opened her purse, sifting through its contents until she found her pocket notebook and pen.

"So, shall we get started?"

May's brow furrowed as she watched her with concern. "Wouldn't you like to order something first, Ms. Potts?" she wondered. She glanced over at Happy, who was munching on a chocolate chip cookie with some sort of hot drink in his other hand as he watched them intently.

"Oh, I'm not really hungry. And as Happy said, we don't have too long..."

"A drink then." May flagged down a barista. "Looks like a little caffeine could do you some good."

Pepper couldn't argue that. She'd tried to use as much foundation as possible to make the dark shadows under her eyes from lack of sleep less noticeable since she couldn't close them without remembering the news reports about Tony's death. It felt as though she'd been living on caffeine alone since the day he'd disappeared.

May ordered "the usual" before the middle-aged man turned to Pepper expectantly with his notepad. "Oh, um, a vanilla latte, please," she said, opening her purse again for her wallet. However, she stopped when the other woman waved a hand.

"My treat, hun," she told her. "I get a discount since I'm a regular here." She shared a coy smile with the barista before he hurried away to get their orders. But then, the look waned when she saw that Pepper's eyes were glued to something behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder again to look at the small television that was hanging behind the counter. One glance told her that the nationwide news was once again running headlines about the death of Iron Man.

"Why don't we take this meeting outside?" she suggested quietly. Sympathetically.

Pepper knew that if they stayed where they were, she would never be able to focus on this meeting. She tore her eyes away from the screen and met the other woman's gaze with as much of a smile as she could muster. "That sounds good," she agreed. "It's a beautiful day."

May nodded once as they both stood, and she gestured to the barista before she began to make her way out the back door to where there was another sitting area on a patio facing the busy streets. Pepper gave Happy an encouraging look before she followed after her. There weren't too many people, surprisingly, and they found a spot to sit at a corner table away from anyone else. Pepper opened her notebook and uncapped her pen.

"So, Ms. Potts, how exactly are you affiliated with this internship?" May wondered.

"As the CEO of Stark Industries, I oversaw a lot of the projects that Mr. Stark was involved with, including the internship," Pepper explained. "Mr. Stark was... a friend. As for the internship itself, I've really only worked closely with Peter the past few days in Mr. Stark's... absence. But as I said, it's been a pleasure. He's a very bright kid, I can see why he was chosen to participate."

May nodded thoughtfully, though she didn't say anything.

"Are there any other questions you had concerning the internship that we didn't discuss on the phone?" Pepper continued, attempting to push the meeting along or, more importantly, to find out its point. "Or about how Peter's doing with it?"

Another moment passed before May took a deep breath. "How is Peter handling it?" she asked quietly, her gaze faltering. "That tragic thing that happened to Mr. Stark? I've been talking with his principal ever since the disastrous events in D.C. when he was there for the decathlon trip, and I know he's slipping a bit there, so I wanted to know for sure that he was holding up okay with what he's doing with you. I know he cares about it so much, but if it's causing him any unnecessary stress..."

Pepper absently brought the pen cap to her mouth and lightly took it between her teeth, unsure of what to exactly say. She couldn't lie and say he was doing perfectly; after all, there was no internship, and she knew May would never believe it since apparently, his performance at school was slipping. Besides, for as long as Peter had been spending at the Tower, he had been anything _but_ okay. Even so, he also wanted to do whatever he could to now find those who had killed Tony, and she found that admirable.

"He's all right," she finally settled on saying. "Not his normal perky self after finding out about Mr. Stark, though he's really throwing himself into his work. It seems like it's a good distraction for him." It wasn't entirely a lie.

"That sounds like Peter. He was the same way when his... when his uncle died."

Pepper's gaze faltered. She didn't know exactly what had happened to Peter's uncle, though she remembered the teenager had told her he'd died when he'd been brought to the Tower after the attack. "He's mentioned his uncle passed away, and I was sorry to hear it. He's a good kid."

May's smile returned, though it had a somber feel to it. "That he is. I just worry about him sometimes, though. He's gotten somewhat distant lately." She studied the other woman carefully. "I have no idea how you do it."

"Do what?" Pepper blinked with confusion.

"Ms. Potts, it's quite obvious to me that you were more than Mr. Stark's CEO." May leaned forward a little. "You're a very lucky woman, you know that? When he first came to tell me about this scholarship that Peter had earned, and then about this internship, he was a little flirtatious. I have to say, he's quite the charmer! It was fun, and may I add completely harmless, but I could tell that his heart just wasn't in it. And I knew that was because it still belonged to someone else. And I can see now that it was you."

Pepper's breath caught in her chest. She wasn't sure which part was more difficult to wrap her mind around, that Tony had flirted with this woman while they'd been taking a break– which really wasn't all that unusual when it came to him, she reasoned– or that May had somehow noticed that he had never stopped feeling the way he always had about her.

Just like she hadn't about him.

"Please, just call me Pepper," she was finally able to mutter as she set her pen down. "Um... As far as Mr. Stark... Tony... is concerned, I've been working for him for quite a long time, which is how I ultimately got promoted to CEO. But... we were in a relationship for about eight years before the strain of everything he did caused us to take a break. A couple months ago, I came around again since he needed me to be there, but we were only friends."

May's smile returned. "But you still feel something more for him?" she guessed.

Pepper briefly nodded as she was finally able to take a deeper breath. "Seems like neither one of us stopped in that regard," she said with a chuckle. "And what's happening now... it's been my biggest fear for all these years with him... That one day, I'd turn on the news to see that something happened to him..."

The brunette woman's gaze faltered, and she reached across the table and wrapped her hand securely around the CEO's. Pepper found herself returning the gesture. It was one of understanding, one that didn't require words. The other woman knew the pain she was experiencing, and she found comfort in the fact she wasn't alone.

They released hands just as the barista came out with their drinks, setting them on the table in front of them. "May I get you ladies anything else?"

May waved him off with a friendly smile. "We're good, hun, thank you."

Once they were alone again, she sighed as she turned to the redheaded woman. "I was fortunate to have Peter after Ben's death," she muttered thoughtfully, taking a sip of her warm beverage. "His presence certainly helped with the void my husband's loss left behind. Do... do you have anyone... like that... who can help you?"

Pepper took a sip of her own latte, realizing after a moment what the other woman was referring to. "Oh, no, Tony and I don't have any children," she told her. "Tony wasn't... well, what I should say..." She stopped with a quiet sigh of frustration. "Tony didn't necessarily have the best relationship with his father growing up. So, in many ways, he feels like he really wouldn't be good father material. He was afraid to take that step, I think, and we were both so busy with everything that we were both involved with that it never really crossed our minds. But I'd just look at how he was with Peter, and I'd think his fears weren't necessarily all that founded."

May cocked her head curiously. "So Peter and Mr. Stark were close, then?"

The CEO nodded. "Yes," she confirmed. "He didn't admit it, but I think in some ways, Peter was the closest thing Tony ever compared to a kid of his own."

The brunette woman took this information in before she let out a long breath. "I don't like speaking ill of the dead, but I want to be honest with you," she said. "I've never really been fond of Mr. Stark. I don't know why, but I felt like Peter would get into trouble one day because of him." She didn't notice how Pepper nearly choked on a sip of her drink. "But I'm happy to know that, regardless. After Ben died, Peter didn't have any sort of father figure in his life. That Mr. Stark was able to give him that..."

Pepper smiled slightly as she lightly dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. "Trust me, the connection was mutual."

May returned the look. "Good." Then, she cleared her throat. "Recently, Peter had a meeting with the school's therapist, and as I've mentioned, I've been having talks with the principal about how his performance is lacking. I think I'm going to have him continue having these meetings to deal with the recent turn of events involving Mr. Stark. Believe me, I was hoping for the best outcome..."

"As we all were," Pepper muttered.

"Yes, well... that should help him deal with the overwhelming stress he seems to be dealing with at school," May continued. "And I want your honest opinion in regards to the internship."

The CEO straightened in her chair slightly. "I'd be happy to give you whatever you need."

May gave her a sad look. "Do you think it's... too much for him right now?" she asked. "With everything going on..."

Pepper sighed as she leaned forward on the table. "I know that Peter's struggling with some anxiety issues," she answered. "And when he was alive, Tony made sure to accommodate that. He had his own anxiety issues that he worked through on a daily basis, so he understood. I'll continue to do the same, he's welcome to speak with me, or anyone else who's helping with the internship, at any time. I believe meeting with the school psychologist will help in that regard, too, and perhaps he could find some sort of balance through those sessions. Though with what I know about Peter, it's my professional and personal opinion that keeping him on the internship would be the best route to take for now. He genuinely enjoys it, and it's something that keeps him focused. I think, in that sense, it can help him cope with what happened to Tony."

The brunette woman met her gaze for a long moment before she smiled and nodded. "All right, then. That's what we'll do for now."

Before either woman could say anything more, the sound of someone clearing their throat reached them, and they both turned to see that Happy was standing in the doorway that led out to the patio, drink in hand. He'd already finished his cookie. "I'm sorry to say that we'll have to cut this meeting short, Ms. Parker," he said, trying to keep his tone official. "Ms. Potts, it's time to head to our... other engagement."

Pepper's face paled a shade as she took a deep breath and nodded. "All right, Happy, thank you." She quickly gathered up her notepad and pen, dropping the latter as her fingers trembled slightly, and she chuckled as she finally managed to get both items in her purse. The other woman watched her carefully "Sorry about that, Ms. Parker. But please, if you have any more questions or concerns, please feel free to call me."

"Please, just May. No need for the _Ms. Parker_ business," May told her with a sad smile. As both women rose to their feet, she quickly reached out and pulled the redhead into a tight hug. Startled by the gesture, Pepper managed to wrap an arm around her.

"I know where you're going, I can see it in your face," the brunette woman whispered. "It's one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. But you'll be fine, Pepper, trust me. You're strong. You can make it through."

Pepper felt a thin line of tears form in her eyes as she tightened her hold on May. That was exactly what she needed to hear from someone who knew what she was going through because they'd been through it themselves before.

"Thank you, May."

* * *

"Virginia Potts, right this way."

Pepper didn't even hesitate as she walked forward when her name was called, her face impassive. Behind her, Rhodey and Happy rose from their seats and followed her without a word.

"You're walking better," the head of security murmured with a brief glance at the other man.

Rhodey smirked slightly as he nodded once. "Kid did a good job on the braces," he replied.

Pepper glanced over her shoulder as the three crossed the lobby of the medical examiner's office toward where the coroner's assistant– a young, fair-haired, almost flustered girl– was waiting for them. A small smile tugged at the corner of her own lips; she could hear the pride in the colonel's voice.

"Thank you for coming, Ms. Potts," the assistant– Amanda, judging by her name tag– said, shaking the CEO's hand. "I know this may seem somewhat... redundant and unnecessary with someone of Mr. Stark's status, but it's standard procedure that the next of kin come in for identification. And since you were listed in Mr. Stark's medical records as the person of contact... though I didn't know that more people were coming with you."

Happy puffed out his chest ever so slightly, eager to show off his badge. "For your information, I–!"

"He's my personal security," Pepper supplied, setting a placating hand on the head of security's arm. "Due to the nature of... Mr. Stark's death, Stark Industries thought it important that he accompany me since the company is in my control. And along with Colonel Rhodes, we are the closest to kin that Mr. Stark had."

Amanda looked from Pepper to Happy to Rhodey for a moment before making a quick note on her clipboard. "Very well. Right this way, please."

Both Happy and Rhodey gave Pepper looks of approval as all three of them followed the young assistant as she led them down a couple of hallways before making their way down a short flight of stairs. The temperature seemed to drop with every step.

The door leading into the morgue loomed ahead of them at the end of the hall. Pepper took a deep, shuddering breath as she stared straight ahead, grateful for Happy's warm, sturdy hand resting on her shoulder. She'd steeled herself for this moment ever since she'd received the call from the medical examiner's office. She thought she'd been prepared.

But how could she be prepared for _this_?

How could she be prepared to see the body of the man she'd loved for so long... burnt, bloodied, bruised... _broken_?

How could she be prepared to see the shell of the man who'd known her better than any other without life when he'd once been so vibrant?

How could she...?

"Ms. Potts?"

Pepper was brought out of her racing thoughts when Amanda's quiet, almost hesitant, voice reached her. She noticed that they'd come to a stop in front of the door leading into the morgue and that the younger woman was looking at her expectantly. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "You were saying?"

Amanda gave her a smile full of sympathy. "When the police brought his body in, the sergeant gave me this," she told her, lifting some of the papers on her clipboard before holding out a fancy white envelope to her. "He instructed it should be given to who was listed as Mr. Stark's next of kin."

Rhodey's eyes narrowed as he stared at the envelope. _Sergeant_... Something didn't settle well with him about that. He couldn't shake the feeling that that was who had directed the android attack on him since, even though he'd only ever seen that man from a distance, he thought he'd recognized the uniform. "Was that with the body?" he wondered. "I didn't see it at the scene."

"It was with the body when they brought him in," Amanda told him.

Happy exchanged a wary look with Rhodey as Pepper reached out and took the envelope. Though instead of looking at it, she slipped it right into her purse.

"I'd like to speak to the coroner now, please," the CEO said politely.

 _Please just let me get this nightmare over with..._

Amanda nodded. "One moment, Ms. Potts." She then opened the door and disappeared into the morgue.

As soon as they were alone, Rhodey immediately turned to face her. "I don't like it," he murmured. I was there when Tony was discovered, Pepper. There wasn't an envelope. If that had been on him, it would have been burned if not destroyed."

"I know," Pepper replied with a sigh. "It seems weird to me, too. We'll check it out later."

"So... what would this shady sergeant be trying to do here with this envelope?" Happy asked.

Rhodey met his gaze, but before he could answer, the door opened once more, and Amanda leaned out. "He's ready for you."

Pepper took a deep breath as she nodded, once again not hesitating as she walked into the morgue. Happy and Rhodey stayed close behind her.

The coroner– an older man with graying hair and kindness in his lined face– was there to greet them. He offered them a small smile, shaking hands with each of them. "All right, Amanda, that'll do, dear," he said, waiting until his assistant left the room before turning his light gaze back to them. "Ms. Potts, my deepest condolences for your loss. I know this seems tedious since the press has already identified him, but..."

"I know, it's standard procedure," Pepper assured him. "It's all right. I'm here to do my part."

The coroner gave her a sympathetic look. "All right, then. Follow me, please."

Pepper nodded, glancing down when a hand briefly wrapped around hers and gave it a comforting squeeze. She smiled at Rhodey before the three of them followed after the older man.

The coroner led them over to a metallic table with a white sheet draped over it, a clearly human shape clearly visible beneath it. For the first time, the CEO's steps faltered. She knew who was under there, no matter how she wished he wasn't. _Tony_... the man she'd shared her life with in one way or another for over a decade, the man who had seen her for who she was, the man who had touched her soul in a way no one else had, the man whose smile never failed to make her heart flutter no matter how much he could annoy her, the man she'd always known she wanted to spend the rest of her life with...

And now, she never would. That smile had faded, the heart he'd given her had stopped, that light that promised he'd always find a way back to her had gone out.

Tony was gone. What was now on the table in front of her was all that remained.

Her breath caught in her chest, and she was immediately grateful when both Rhodey and Happy moved in close on either side of her.

The coroner's gaze faltered. "I'm sorry, this part is never easy," he told them. "Are you ready, Ms. Potts? There is no need to rush."

Pepper took a moment to just focus on keeping her breathing steady, trying to keep the image of Tony– alive, smiling broadly, laughter in his hazel eyes– close to her heart. She nodded, setting her jaw as she grabbed a tight hold of both the head of security and the colonel's arms.

"I'm ready." She wasn't sure if she believed her own words, but she also knew she had no choice. She was as ready as she'd ever be.

The coroner nodded in return, reaching out and taking a hold of the sheet before carefully lowering it to reveal the man lying beneath it.

All the breath left Happy's lungs as though he'd been punched in the gut. Seeing the burns and bruises that marked the billionaire's face, chest, and shoulders was horrifying. The darker bruising on his best friend's neck, which was twisted a little at an unnatural angle, made him nauseous. Rhodey inhaled sharply. Even though he'd been cleaned up since he saw him at the scene down by the harbor, seeing Tony in this shape, seeing him lifeless, still attacked him like a physical pain. He reached out and grabbed a hold of Pepper's arm, noticing that the head of security was appearing a bit green before he turned his full attention to her.

The CEO's face was completely drained of color, and a thin line of tears had formed in her shocked eyes. He felt her trembling slightly beneath his hand, and the colonel secured his hold in case her legs decided to give out on her. She looked as though she'd faint at any moment.

Pepper hardly felt Rhodey's hold on her as the world around her seemed to fall away. All that existed was her and Tony, lying lifeless on the table in front of her. She felt lightheaded, her body shaking so much that she wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to stay standing. Even with the tears obscuring her vision, her eyes traced every bruise, every burn, over the features she knew so well, down his neck, onto his broad shoulders and chest...

"Our initial examination showed us that his broken neck may have been..." the coroner began, but his words slowly trailed off when Pepper started taking a couple slow steps forward. "Ms. Potts?"

Rhodey watched after the CEO as he cautiously let go of her arm when she moved closer to the table, knowing that he and Happy were still close enough in case they were needed. But he was surprised to see the confusion cross her face as she continued forward to get a better look at the body. On her other side, Happy had finally pulled himself together and appeared as wary as he did.

"Hey, Peps...?" the latter murmured.

But Pepper didn't seem to hear any of them as she stepped right next to the table, leaning down a little to get an even closer look at Tony. Rhodey's brow furrowed, not sure what she could possibly be looking for.

The coroner watched her curiously for a moment before he decided to continue. "As I was saying, our initial examination showed us that–!"

Suddenly, Pepper gasped as she straightened up and staggered back from the table. Both Rhodey and Happy were at her side immediately to steady her. "Pepper, what's wrong?" the colonel asked anxiously, searching her pale face for any clue.

"Talk to us, Peps," Happy urged, tightening his hold around her to keep her steady on her feet since she was shaking violently again.

Pepper continued to stare at the body for a moment longer, a sob escaping from her as a few tears rolled down her cheeks. Her breathing quickened as she looked from Rhodey to Happy, her eyes wide in disbelief.

Finally, she found her voice.

"That... that isn't Tony."

 **Author's Note** : And... plot twist? So if the body that was discovered isn't Tony... any guesses as to what's going on here? We'll find out a little more in the next chapter! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are appreciated! Until next time, guys!


	18. Chapter 18- You're Invited!

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit. I also do not own Fury's beginning quote.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Hey, guys! Thank you for your reviews, favorites, and follows, they keep me going! I'm so, so sorry that it's taken me so long to update! I've been dealing with a situation at work that's just been stressing me out beyond belief, and when I finally got into a good headspace where I could write again, my laptop decided to give out on me. So until I'm able to either get it fixed or get a new one, it's just gonna take me a little more time to get these chapters posted in terms of posting since I've gotta do everything longhand first. But trust me, this is still in the works! Please just bear with me as I continue to de-stress from this ordeal, and as I continue to write out these chapters the old-fashioned way. Thanks, guys! Here's a rather long chapter with the return of a familiar face, and a couple of new ones, to make up for my absence! Enjoy!

Chapter 18- "You're Invited!"

It was a few small things, really. A few subtle differences. A light mole that should have been on the back of his neck near his hairline wasn't there. A long scar that was a souvenir from his time in Afghanistan was absent from the back of his right shoulder. Another scar from an accident in his lab was missing from the length of his left thumb. A small clump of freckles seemed to have been erased from near his right elbow.

Yet... the face was undeniably Tony. The immaculately cut hair and trimmed beard, the bone structure... Even the scar and slight scar and indent from where the Arc reactor had used to reside in his chest were there.

But yet, all these small details added up, giving the fool's hope that the billionaire was still alive that had lingered in her heart something concrete. As uncanny as the resemblance was, there was enough to tell her that the man lying on the coroner's table was _not_ the man she loved.

He was _not_ Tony Stark.

Pepper sat in an uncomfortable rolling chair with a small cup of water, staring straight ahead of her. Happy stood near her, appearing to be at a loss. Rhodey slowly paced the length of the table with the mystery man lying on it, his studying gaze passing over the body carefully. When the CEO had first uttered the words that this couldn't have possibly been his best friend, he'd wanted more than anything to believe her but couldn't quite bring himself to since he'd been afraid that it was just a foolish hope.

But when she'd started pointing out the inconsistencies, the things that weren't quite Tony, that doubt had immediately been erased. He'd tended to some of those missing scars himself.

The colonel paused, turning to where the coroner was sitting in another chair next to Pepper. "I realize this puts you in a difficult position," he said steadily. "But I'm going to have to ask you for your confidentiality."

The older man appeared hesitant for a moment. "Colonel, you must understand..." he began.

"I do," Rhodey replied. "But please understand me, too. We have no idea what's going on here, or who this man is. Since that's the case, releasing this information when news of Tony's death already has the public rattled would just make it worse. I've seen this sort of thing happen myself. So until we know more about what's happening, I ask that we keep our silence. Misinformation is killer. I'll talk to my people, see if we can figure out what any of this means. Once we know for sure what's going on here, then we can release what we know."

A moment passed before the coroner nodded. "All right," he agreed. By the look on his face, it was clear he'd never experienced anything quite like this in his line of work before. He was as lost as the rest of them. "To risk being any more compromised, I'm going to step out into the hall if there's nothing more you need from me, if that's all right with the rest of you."

Rhodey nodded. "That would be fine, sir, thank you."

As soon as the older man stepped through the door out of the room, Happy let out a long breath as he turned back to his two companions. "So... what the hell is going on here?" he asked. "You're sure that's not...?"

Pepper nodded, her slender fingers tightening around the plastic cup. "Absolutely," she answered in just above a whisper. "That's not Tony."

"But someone went through a hell of a lot of trouble to make it look like it is," Rhodey murmured, staring down at the mystery man's face. He shook his head slightly. "The brow bone, the cheek bones, the jaw line... Everything. Certainly had me fooled down at the harbor."

"So... do you think someone... _modified_ this man's face?" Pepper wondered, the thought causing a slight shudder to run through her body. "And his chest... since it looks like his reactor was there. At first glance..."

The colonel briefly closed his eyes at the horror of the thought. The pain of the procedure to be made to look completely like a different person... only to die in such a horrible way... _Why?_ What was the point?

"But that's what confuses me," he told her. "To put _so_ much detail into making this man look _just_ like Tony... only to miss so many identifying factors? It sounds almost... lazy, careless. I mean... this person had to know that those mistakes would be noticed by his next of kin. They _had_ to."

The room was silent for a moment since no one had the answer.

"Unless... unless those mistakes were intentional?" Happy finally spoke up.

Rhodey quickly sent the other man a wondering glance.

"Hear me out," the head of security continued as he approached the table across from the colonel. "Obviously, all the work went into the recognizable features. His face, the Arc reactor. Things the public would know without a doubt. But the smaller details... things only we would be more familiar with... don't matter. You said it yourself, Rhodes, we would notice. Someone's messing with us. Letting us know that Tony is still out there somewhere, and that we're no closer to finding him. I don't know why, but this is a game to whoever's responsible for that attack on that roof. Some messed up, twisted game..."

Rhodey's brow furrowed as he lowered his gaze back to the body. "And this man's obviously... human. The coroner would have noticed if he was an android like the ones who ambushed me..." Then, his eyes widened as he looked over at the CEO. "Pepper, what was in that envelope the sergeant wanted you to have?"

Pepper looked back at him with confusion for a moment before her own eyes widened in recognition. "Oh, yeah... I forgot..." She set the empty cup aside before she got to her feet, digging through her purse as she approached the two men. She finally pulled out the envelope that had been given to her when they'd arrived, eagerly about to open it to see if there was some sort of clue to go off of for this strange turn of events before Happy reached out and lightly took her wrist to stop her.

"You'd better allow me," he muttered, eyeing the envelope warily. "Just in case... You don't know what could be inside."

She hesitated for a moment, even though she knew the possibility of some sort of threat contained inside was a high one, before she hesitantly handed the envelope over to her friend. The head of security held it at arm's length in front of him, making sure to keep it away from Rhodey and Pepper, and took a deep breath before he cautiously broke the seal and carefully reached inside.

All three jumped back a little when a shimmering substance fell from the envelope as he pulled out what appeared to be a greeting card, but Happy's eyes narrowed as he looked at the drifting particles as they gently hit the floor. "Glitter?" he asked in disbelief, kicking at some of the gold glitter with his shoe. "Obnoxious..."

"So, what is it?" Rhodey wondered, nudging the other man a bit impatiently.

"Right..." Happy turned the card around so that they could see the front, and all three looked at the glittery, looping script font with confusion.

"You're invited?" Pepper read aloud. "Why would we be given an invitation?"

"Weird..." Happy then cautiously opened the card, just in case, only to find more gold glitter spill out. "Really obnoxious..."

Unlike the decorative exterior, the interior of the card was relatively blank. All except for two words, written neatly by hand using a calligraphy pen, in the center. Pepper's breath caught in her chest as she and Happy exchanged worried looks. Rhodey exhaled deeply, slowly running a hand down his face as he read the words over one more time.

 _Steve Rogers._

* * *

"I don't understand," Steve muttered, looking down at the invitation in his hand. He studied the decorated cover and flipped it over to the back before opening the card to where his name was neatly written inside. "I honestly don't have any idea about what this could mean. This wasn't found with the body?"

"And just to be clear... that body _wasn't_ Tony?" Sam added.

Rhodey let out a long breath as he crossed his arms in front of his chest and slowly shook his head. "No, just someone who had his face modified to look exactly like Tony," he explained. "The rest of him, other than the spot where his Arc reactor used to be, not so much. And the invitation itself was given to the coroner's assistant by the sergeant in charge down by the harbor with instructions to give it to who would come in to identify him. Which was Pepper."

Clint whistled under his breath. "This is seriously messed up," he said, mainly to himself as he thought all of this information over.

The colonel nodded his agreement. "Someone wanted us to know that Tony's still alive out there somewhere, but that this could happen to him at any time," he told them before turning his attention to the Super Soldier. "And they had a message for _you_."

Steve shook his head as he sat down on the arm of one of the couches in the penthouse. Aside from the four of them, it was empty. His gaze refused to leave the invitation he held. The past day felt like some long nightmare he'd been unable to wake up from, and he couldn't slow down his racing mind or quell his raging emotions. The guilt of Tony's death, of not mending what had shattered between them, still lingered, but... _Tony was alive_. He hadn't killed the other man. There was still a chance to save him. To change things...

Noticing the turmoil the Captain was working through, Clint's brow furrowed. "This body that was found at the harbor. It was... human?"

Sam arched an eyebrow while Steve even glanced up in confusion. "I'm gonna go ahead and assume there's a completely normal, non-weird reason for that question," the former said.

Rhodey turned to the archer. "Yeha, the coroner would have noticed otherwise."

"Care to explain that?" Sam pressed, taking a couple steps closer. "What's going on?"

"Sorry. In the chaos of finding who we believed was Tony, I forgot..." The colonel sighed. "When Vision and I were down at the scene to help with clean up efforts, the sergeant... who left that invitation for Steve... sent a couple of androids to take me out. I'm pretty convinced I wasn't supposed to walk away from that building."

"Androids?" Steve repeated. When Rhodey nodded, he turned back to the card in his hand, his eyes narrowed.

"What's on your mind, Cap?" Sam wondered.

"I just..." Steve set the card aside as he cast his gaze to Clint. "I'm thinking about those old Hydra files that we used to have here and at the Compound when we were tracking them down. Something about this sounds familiar, it's just..."

Clint sighed. "The hallucinogenic gas, costumes, androids, mind games, what was done to this man... I know exactly who it sounds like," he muttered. "But I think I know where you're going with this. I know it was never confirmed since no one can agree on it, but..."

"I thought he was dead," Steve finished, more to himself than anyone else. Clint nodded.

Rhodey and Sam exchanged confused looks. "Okay... someone wanna explain what's going on here?" the latter prompted. "Because that would be greatly appreciated."

"If either one of you know something about where Tony might be..." the colonel added.

The Super Soldier let out a long, heavy breath as he turned back to Rhodey. "I can't say for sure if it is him or not," he told him. "Mainly because as I said, I thought he was dead. Which I... well, which I may have had a hand in." He paused when he saw the other man arch an eyebrow. "I don't know who else would leave this sort of message for me. But I think I have a way to find out for sure. And I want to pursue that lead before we start chasing shadows. But I need your help."

Rhodey looked back at him, struggling to keep his face impassive though the worry for his best friend and the urgency to find him broke through. "What sort of lead?" There was hope in the question.

Steve leaned forward a bit. "I need you to call Everett Ross."

The penthouse was silent for a long moment as shock settled over the rest of its occupants.

Finally, Sam whistled as he shook his head slightly. "So, I know it's Ameri _can_ and not Ameri _can't_... but Captain Ameri- _shouldn't_!"

The Captain sighed. "Look, I know..." But he trailed off when Rhodey held a hand up.

"Everett... Do you know how _bad_ of an idea that is?" he asked. "Seriously, Steve. Think about it. Granted, it wouldn't be like calling up Secretary Ross, that would be a guaranteed prison sentence. But still. You, Clint, and Sam are wanted criminals. Calling this Ross wouldn't be much better. Especially with what went down when you were there. Breaking out, stealing your gear back..."

"Barnes kinda opened that door for us, and we were just taking back what was ours," Sam murmured with a smirk. "Though that's on Sharon, don't look at us."

The colonel rolled his eyes before looking back at Steve. "What reason could you possibly have for wanting to call him?"

The Super Soldier steadily met his gaze. "Because he's got a lead," he explained before he lifted up the card again. "This confirms for me that this... whole thing with Tony was some sort of message for me. At least with the body being discovered down at the scene and then this invitation. And that's because of what happened between us. Our falling out, the team splitting apart, what happened with his parents, the fake Bucky on the rooftop... everything. And while the public knows some of that information, there's only one person who knows all of those details."

Realization dawned on Rhodey's face. "Okay, you're crazier than I thought, Steve," he replied, beginning to pace. "You want me to call Ross so you can talk to _Zemo_?"

Steve steadily met his gaze. "Do you have a better idea?"

When the colonel opened his mouth to protest, another voice spoke up. "Cap might have a point," Clint muttered, wandering over to stand by Steve. "Zemo had to get his information from somewhere. We just need to find out from where. If at least one of his sources was from this man, or if they were sharing information..." He paused with a slight shake of his head. "We might already be screwed."

"Screwed? Why are we screwed?"

All four men turned in the direction of the elevator at the unexpected voice, not having even heard the tell-tale _ding_ since they'd been so involved in their conversation. Pepper, still appearing a bit ragged by the day's events, quickly crossed the room to them carrying a large plate of pizza rolls. "Why are we screwed?" she repeated, her eyes zeroing in on the archer.

Rhodey passed a weary gaze over the other members of the small group before looking at Steve. He sighed with defeat under the other man's unfaltering determined expression. "Gonna... gonna make a video call..." he mumbled, pulling his cell phone out of the back pocket of his jeans before wandering away from the others. The Captain watched after him, suspecting he was only going along with his admittedly crazy idea since it could help them find Tony.

Clint couldn't quite bring himself to meet the CEO's gaze as he swiftly grabbed a couple pizza rolls from the proffered plate. "It's also quite possible that we're _not_ screwed," he told her. "But I don't want to lie to you, Pepper. All the pieces we have so far about what happened to Tony... they're familiar. Both Steve and I have dealt with someone... a Hydra agent... who's used similar tactics."

"Wait. Hydra?" Pepper moved the plate closer to Sam and Steve, watching as they each took a couple pizza rolls, too. "I thought they weren't a problem anymore."

Steve sighed. "More than likely, we ran whatever was left of the organization underground after so many high-level operatives were caught when Nat released those files," he countered. "Overall, these guys are too smart to not have a back-up plan for that sort of situation. To secretly rebuild."

The CEO's gaze faltered. "So... you guys think that Hydra's rebuilt, and is... what? Launching another attack by taking Tony?"

Clint shook his head slightly, taking a bite of one of the pizza rolls he'd taken. "I don't think so," he muttered. "At least, not yet."

Steve suddenly stiffened.

Sam narrowed eyes eyes as he finished off his pizza rolls before reaching for another. "What's up, Cap?"

The Super Soldier met his gaze, feeling the other two watching him intently as well. "I'm still working on putting everything together... this invitation for me, the clues we've gathered to who's possibly behind all this and what they know about what happened in Siberia between Tony and I, how Peter of all people fits into this... but your comment about Hydra not yet being rebuilt got me thinking. Maybe... maybe part of the reason Tony was taken is because they need help rebuilding. Tony's skills would be a valuable asset to them."

Pepper's eyes widened in alarm. "But Tony... he wouldn't... he'd never..."

"No, he wouldn't," Steve agreed in a placating tone. "Not willingly."

"But if whoever did this wanted Tony to help rebuild Hydra... why go through all this just to call you out after what you two went through?" Clint wondered. "The dead body, all of this?" he paused. "Though if it's who we think it is..."

"I'm still trying to piece that together, too." Steve sent a glance over at Rhodey, seeing he was was speaking quietly to his phone as he paced. "Hopefully, this gives us a lead like I think it will."

The archer ran a frustrated hand through his mohawk. There were too many loose ends. "And this is why we might be screwed. We're already going in circles..."

Pepper turned back to him. "Right. Tell me why we're screwed?" she repeated.

Clint met her gaze. "As I said, Steve and I are noticing some similarities to a high-level Hydra agent that we've both had... personal dealings with," he explained, his eyes faltering. He shared a brief look with Steve, one full of understanding. "The tactics he's using against us and to throw us off... it all fits the bill. The thing is, if it's him, we may already be at a disadvantage because he's clearly already a couple steps ahead of us. And we don't even know by how many, he may have done things or have more in place that we don't know about. But this guy, he... he gets in your head. He knows your weaknesses, he uses your worst fears and doubts against you, he turns you against your friends and family, he causes you to doubt and reject everything you know to be real... Our best chance at bringing him down is to be on the same page as he is. Which as of right now, we aren't."

Pepper's face paled.

Steve shook his head slightly, absently brushing a hand over his beard. "S.H.I.E.L.D. kept extensive records on him since he was considered one of the biggest threats to come out of Hydra," he continued. "He himself never had to lift a finger to bring harm and destruction, his victims more often than not bring that on themselves. His mind control, which could be widespread if he chose it to be, was devastating enough. The only thing is, he was almost like a phantom. Fury and others could never decide if he was alive or dead, considering he'd only appear every now and again, sometimes years apart, which shouldn't have been possible considering his age. Clint and I have both dealt with him personally, but most agents haven't. Most of the Avengers haven't. He was a popular urban legend, of sorts, when the agency was running. A ghost story, if you will. I believe that I was the last to ever see him... a few years ago, not long before both S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra collapsed. At that point, I believed him to be dead."

The CEO felt her breath catch when she noticed the Captain's hand had curled into a fist. Clint's brow furrowed with concern. "What happened, Steve?" she whispered. "Who is this man? Who might have Tony?"

Steve forced his fingers to slowly unclench before he met her gaze. Something that eerily resembled fear flashed through the bold blue of his eyes, a look that concerned her greatly.

But before he could say anything more, Rhodey's stern voice reached them as he made his way back toward them. "All right, man. Hold up while I get you set up so you can talk to everyone."

The colonel sighed as he put the call on hold before looking back at the other four. "Here's the deal. Everett's already not in the greatest of moods since he's got a lot of preparation for an assignment he has coming up, but he's granting us a few minutes. Only because I told him it involves this whole mess with Tony. But, uh..." He paused as he briefly shook his head once. "He's _not_ going to be happy when he sees you three. Or hears what we want him to do."

Steve, Clint, and Sam all exchanged glances. No, they couldn't imagine that Everett Ross would appreciate seeing three escaped criminals wanting to talk to a dangerous inmate. But it was a risk they'd have to take if they wanted to hopefully find some answers.

"We'll try covering you, Rhodes," the archer said. "Make sure he knows you have nothing to do with us."

"Great. Could still get busted for housing your asses..." But Rhodey gave them a conspiratorial smile as he inserted some sort of device into a slot in his phone. He then set it down on the table nearest them, glancing back at them one last time. "Ready?"

"Ready," Steve confirmed while Clint, Sam, and Pepper nodded in agreement. Sam took a couple more pizza rolls of the tray.

"All right, here we go." The colonel reached out and hit a button on the phone's large screen. Pepper sat down on the arm of the nearest couch to watch the conversation. A second later, a hologram emitted from the phone, showing Everett Ross in a light blue hue looking impatiently around him as he waited.

"Can you see us, Everett?" Rhodey asked, raising his voice a little to make sure he was heard. "We can see you."

Everett jumped at the question, turning back to his own phone screen with slightly wider eyes. _"Yeah, Rhodes, I can..."_ But his words trailed off as his eyes widened fully when he saw who was standing with him in the penthouse. He groaned and passed a hand over his face. _"Oh, no... No, no, no, no, no. I don't have time for this, Rhodes... I have to get ready to go to South Korea... to deal with a wanted man all of you failed to get, by the way..."_ Steve and Clint exchanged confused looks. _"I don't have time to deal with this, too... Not right now..."_

Rhodey straightened his shoulders a bit. "Yeah, I know this looks bad..." he began.

 _"Bad? You think?"_ Everett shook his head as he looked around him again. _"Rhodes, this looks more than_ bad _. Let me guess. Romanoff, Maximoff, and Lang are there somewhere, too, right? How about Barnes?"_

"Barnes is in an undisclosed location, we are unaware of his location," the colonel replied. Behind him, the other three Avengers looked away while Pepper glanced at them curiously. "As for the other three... Look, that's not what's important right now. That's not what we're here to talk about."

 _"Not important?"_ Everett repeated with a nervous chuckle. _"With all due respect, Colonel, Secretary Ross would have my head on a platter if he knew_ I _knew you were hiding fugitives and I didn't report it..."_

"With all due respect, this is about more than just your job, sir," Steve spoke up bluntly. He tried to hide his smile when he saw Rhodey give him an impressed look out of the corner of his eye. "This is about Tony Stark."

Everett looked back at him. For a moment, the stern look remained on his face as he held his gaze steadily. But then, he sighed heavily, and stress and defeat won out. _"Okay... okay... because of the circumstances, I'll give you a minute,"_ he conceded. _"But that's all I can give."_

Steve nodded. "That's all we'll need."

The hologram gave one more wary look around, making sure no one else was around. _"I really am sorry for your loss. Stark was a good man,"_ he muttered. _"Rhodes mentioned that you were looking for a lead in what happened to him. I really don't know what I can offer... You seem to know more than I do with this... this Spider-Man? Is that right?"_

"He didn't do it," Clint corrected confidently. "But someone's sure as hell going out of their way to blame him. We're just not sure why."

Everett sighed with a brief shake of his head. _"Well, I don't know what I can tell you about that,"_ he muttered. _"I don't know anything about that. I obviously haven't been to the scene, I haven't talked to anyone who has been... All I know about what happened is what they've been showing on the news. I haven't even had the chance to talk to Secretary Ross yet."_

Steve briefly lowered his gaze, seeming to reach some sort of silent conclusion before he took a deep breath and looked back up. "We have reason to believe that one of your inmates has knowledge that may be useful to us," he said. "That may give us a lead on who's truly responsible for what happened to Tony. Or at least confirm it for us."

Immediately, Everett appeared to be on high alert. _"I'm probably going to regret asking this, but which one?"_ he wondered.

The Super Soldier stared steadily ahead. "I need to speak with Zemo."

A long moment stretched between them where Everett didn't react at all. Then, he started to laugh, the sound full of disbelief and nerves. Rhodey ran a hand slowly down his face while Steve and Clint exchanged glances and Pepper arched an eyebrow. Sam nodded.

"Yup, what'd I tell you?" he mumbled under his breath to no one in particular.

"Sir, I would not have called you if his claim didn't have some merit," the colonel tried to speak up over the sound of the other man's continuous boisterous laughter. "Or if speaking with Zemo wasn't important."

Everett held up a hand as he got himself under control. He let out a long breath as his laughter trailed off, rubbing at his tear-filled eyes. _"Are you_ trying _to cost me my job, Rogers?"_ he asked. _"That... I can't let you do that. He is my top security prisoner._ Top security. _Do you understand that?"_

Steve nodded. "I understand fully," he answered calmly. "But he may hold a critical piece of information that we need to figure out what truly happened here. We have our suspicions, he can confirm them. If there's any chance of saving Tony, we need to-!"

 _"Wait._ Save _?"_ Everett cut in, his eyes narrowing. _"Unless I've been getting my news wrong, Stark is_ dead _. What do you mean_ save _?"_

"It means we have good reason to believe that Tony is still alive out there somewhere," Rhodey explained. "And unless we act fast, that may change very quickly. If your top security prisoner can give us something to go off of, I agree with Steve. We need to talk to him immediately."

 _"I thought you found him..."_ Everett began quietly.

The colonel shrugged. "Mistaken identity," he muttered. "Someone wanted us to believe that he was dead. Much like they're trying to frame Spider-Man. But we need those answers, Everett."

A moment passed. _"Have you informed Secretary Ross yet?"_

"No, and we'd rather keep this in our own hands for now," Clint told him. "It would be safer."

Everett let out a long string of curses and ran a hand through his gray hair before shaking his head. He sighed heavily. _"So... let me get this straight."_ He both looked and sounded like a man defeated. _"Tony Stark is actually_ alive _. Spider-Man is being blamed for a crime he didn't commit. You don't want to tell Secretary Ross, but Zemo, you think, can give you the answers you need. Does that... does that sound about right?"_

"Absolutely," Steve told him with a nod.

Rhodey took a step forward. "Sir, if we had _any_ other option at this pint, we wouldn't be putting you in this difficult position," he assured him. "As it is, this is critical."

Everett slowly shook his head, looking anywhere but at his phone. _"I'm_ so _losing my job for this..."_ He sighed in resignation. _"All right, Rogers. This had better lead to something... One minute. That's all I'll give you with him, so you'd better make it quick. Clear?"_

The Captain nodded. "I won't be longer," he assured him.

The call was paused on Everett's end. Sam let out a low whistle. "That went well."

Rhodey shrugged. "At least he's allowing us to talk with Zemo," he muttered. He then turned to Steve. "You're absolutely sure about this? You're sure that Zemo has something of use? What if he doesn't talk? What if he lies?"

"As sure as I can be," the Super Soldier said. "As for if he talks or lies... I can't guarantee it. But as much as he hates us, he also hates Hydra. We've got that in our favor." He then cast his gaze back down to the glittering invitation. "Something just tells me that he has _some_ information here. Even if he doesn't know about what's happening right now. Especially since it seems I'm being pulled into this... twisted game."

"Which sounds exactly like something who we're thinking of would do," Clint commented. Steve nodded in agreement.

Pepper looked between them nervously. "So you really think it could be this mystery Hydra agent, then...?" she whispered.

Both Steve and Clint turned to look at her. But before they could reply, the call started up again. A soft chuckle washed over them, and Steve slowly turned back to the blue-tinted hologram projection.

A different face, one seen through the wall of the tiny holding cell he was kept in, leered back at them. The man's black hair was a bit longer and more unruly, and a bit of a dark beard now lined his chin. But it was those dark eyes- cold, calculating, cruel- that had remained unchanged.

 _"You have one minute."_ Everett's voice, a reminder, came from right off screen.

Zemo nodded once in acknowledgement before he turned his attention back to the screen. _"Hello, Captain Rogers."_ His voice, quiet and accented, raised the hairs on the Super Soldier's arms. _"It is an absolute pleasure to see you again."_

* * *

Come Monday morning, nearly the entire city was shut down. Schools were closed, there was no mail delivery, and a lot of businesses had the option not to operate that day.

For it was a day of mourning for the citizens of New York, a day for the public at large to be able to grieve for, to celebrate the life of, and to say goodbye to the one and only Tony Stark.

Though even though he was sitting in the passenger seat of his aunt's car and staring blankly out the window on the way to the memorial service for the eccentric billionaire, all Peter could think about was how much traffic sucked. City traffic was usually horrible on a good day, but this was even worse. It was almost at a complete standstill the closer they got to Central Park, one of the few outdoor locations large enough to accommodate all the people of New York City, as well as those coming in from out of state and even out of country, to pay their respects to Iron Man.

It was too much. All too much. Too much noise, too many people, too much input. It was just all too much...

But one thing that was keeping the teen grounded was the knowledge that none of this was actually for Tony Stark. That Tony Stark was actually _alive_ and still out there somewhere, though the team had agreed it was best to keep up appearances for now, to not let the enemy know that they knew the truth about the billionaire. He'd known it all along, his senses had been telling him so, though it didn't alleviate his worry since his mentor was still in danger. They still had to find him before it was too late. Before the same fate could befall him...

Peter thought back to when Steve had pulled him aside on Saturday night before he could leave the Tower for the day. The Super Soldier had appeared more rattled than he'd ever seen him or ever imagined him being. His senses had been on high alert ever since, knowing that something was wrong. _Very wrong._ He hadn't told him too much then, at least not about what had him so shaken, but he did say that he and the other Avengers were going to follow a couple leads to see where they went.

Without him.

 _"What do you mean you don't want me to come with you? I can help, I swear!"_

 _Steve sighed wearily. "I know, and I don't doubt that you can. You helped us catch Toomes, after all," he replied. "You're one of us, kid. Don't question that. But for right now, you have to let us handle this. This is bigger than an arms dealer with wings. If this lead is accurate..."_

 _"You don't think I can handle it?" Peter pressed, fighting the surge of anger that threatened to come spilling out. Hadn't the Super Soldier just said he was part of the team?_

 _"No, I think you could," Steve told him, a note of pity in his tone. "And if our source wasn't lying to us, we're going to need all the help we can get."_

 _Pity was the last thing the web-slinger wanted. "Then what is it?" he snapped, harsher than he'd meant to. "I don't need to be treated like some... like some kid!"_

 _Steve gave him a small smile, one that made him pause and quelled his temper slightly. It was a look full of understanding. "You remind me so much of myself at your age," he muttered. "Take a breath, Peter, and think about this for a minute. Okay? We know you're innocent, but no one else does. You have law enforcement looking for you because who did this is making it look like you're responsible. You can't wear your suit safely, not right now. And this person is already in your head. Both with what happened up on that roof and when Toomes was caught. Trust me. Let us just make sure that our source wasn't lying before we run in. You'll be a part of our recovery efforts, that I can guarantee you."_

 _His uncle... the thief who'd killed him... Their faces were still so clear in his mind..._

 _Peter looked back at him without speaking for a moment, instead taking a deep breath like instructed. "But... but if this is going to help find Mr. Stark..."_

 _The Captain's smile waned. "I know you're feeling guilty about what happened to Tony. I am, too," he told him. "But we have to think and move ahead carefully now. This is about Tony. We'll worry about our guilt later. Though I assure you, kid, none of the blame is yours to bear."_

"Peter?"

His aunt's slightly raised voice accompanied by a chorus of impatient car horns brought the teen out of his thoughts as he quickly looked back at her. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

May sighed as she tightened her hands on the steering wheel and continued to navigate the near standstill traffic. She briefly stopped before merging into the next lane to get to one of the designated parking areas when a police officer guided her there. "I know he... Tony... meant a lot to you," she muttered, inching along after a couple other cars looking for a place to park. "And I know that today's not going to be easy on you. So I just wanted to say I'm very proud of you. And if you need to talk to me... about anything... I'm here for you. Unless you'd rather talk to the school psychologist when you go back..."

That was one thin that Peter was grateful about with school being closed for the memorial. His next appointment with Fennhoff had been scheduled for that day. This, at least, gave him a little more time to put that off.

He must have taken too long to reply, though, since May's gaze faltered as she pulled to a stop in a grassy parking spot she was directed to by another police officer. She briefly hung her head. "I'm sorry, Peter... I'm still learning, you know?" she said, chuckling a little. "I'm still learning this whole... being an aunt thing. I know I'm not doing everything right... but I'm trying. I know it's been hard, first without Ben, and now with what's happened to Mr. Stark..."

The web-slinger's face crumpled. "No, no, May... it's not that, not at all," he assured her. "For all it's worth, I think you're doing a great job! It's not easy being a... well, a single aunt, I get that. But really, you're doing fine. And I'm not just saying that. We've been through a lot together... And we just gotta keep figuring it out. Okay?"

May gave him a small but grateful smile as she reached out and squeezed his hand. "Thanks, kid," she replied. "I larb you."

Peter smiled. "I larb you, too."

His aunt then checked that her hair was staying in its braided bun and did one final sweep of her makeup before she grabbed her purse and stepped out of the car, straightening out her knee-length, black, off-the-shoulder dress. Peter joined her a second later, pulling at the white collar of his white shirt beneath his heavy black tuxedo jacket.

Constricting... it was much too constricting...

"Here, let me see." May had to bend over a little due to her high stilettos as she checked his matching colored tie. "I think we tied that right... We did for homecoming..."

"It's fine, May, really," Peter told her with a little laugh. "Let's go find a seat, shall we?"

May nodded as she turned her gaze to all the people milling about. "If we can even find a seat..." she grumbled. "Looks like most of it's standing room only. The whole city must be here!"

The two slowly began making their way toward the vast crowd. "Well, what'd you expect?" the teen asked. "Mr. Stark impacted a lot of people, directly or indirectly."

"Yeah, that's something you cant take away from him," May answered quietly.

Peter scanned the seemingly endless amount of people around them, feeling his palms starting to sweat as he felt that they were crowding much too close to him, that their voices were much too loud. May was close, he had to focus on her... His breath began to quicken... he couldn't breathe...

 _Calm down, Peter, calm down..._

The web-slinger slowed his pace a bit when high-pitched screams reached his ears, and he quickly looked around, all of his senses on high alert. But a hint of a smile appeared on his face when he saw it was just a few kids running around nearby, chasing each other with what appeared to be Iron Man action figures wearing Iron Man mask or t-shirts.

And the more he looked around at the crowd that had gathered, there was love for the Avenger everywhere. Signs boasting support for Tony in bold, glittering lettering could be spotted among the people, as well as more shirts and other memorabilia. Even though his mentor wasn't truly dead, the sight rejuvenated his heart even just a little bit. He had a gut feeling that Tony would appreciate this show of support.

But then, his senses were immediately on high alert once again. His breathing came shorter and quicker. He had the undeniable feeling, that tell-tale prickle on the back of his neck, that someone was watching him. But no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary in the wave of white, black, red, and gold around him.

Though then, he did catch a flicker of a familiar face further away from the activity in the shades of a couple trees. Steve and Clint stood close together, their faces shielded with baseball caps and sunglasses, keeping a close eye on the people gathered. Sam and Natasha, wearing similar get-ups, were stationed a few yards away, also appearing as though they were on the lookout for something.

 _What were they doing here?_ He'd been under the impression that it was just going to be Rhodey and Vision there from the team...

 _Something was wrong._ It had to be. He didn't know what, but there was something they all knew that he didn't...

 _Why would they be there if there wasn't something wrong?_

"Peter? Are you coming?"

The sound of his aunt's voice brought him out of his anxious thoughts, and he quickly turned back to her. "Uh... yeah! I'm coming."

May raised a questioning eyebrow. But she didn't question his what she clearly found to be odd behavior- likely because of what she believed was going on that day and how it was affecting him- as she turned and continued to try to find a place to either sit or stand. The teen scrambled to fall into place beside her.

"So, uh, I have no idea how you're walking in the grass with those heels, May."

"It's not as easy as it looks, kid. I'm soaking my feet the instant we get home."

Peter chuckled, not really knowing what else to say. But his mind wandered back to Steve, Clint, Natasha, and Sam. Why would the risk being seen _here_ of all places? Not only was most the city gathered, but so were the brunt of Manhattan's law enforcement, as well as reporters and camera crews from various news outlets. It would be _so easy_ for them to be spotted and taken into custody. Well, maybe not, but definitely easy to be spotted. Why would they risk that unless there was good enough reason to take that risk?

 _What was going on?_

 _Breathe, Peter... Breathe..._

"Step this way, please! No rushing, now. Stop crowding! One at at time. Come on, now, let's go!"

A different familiar voice brought him back down to earth this time, and the web-slinger caught sight of Happy in his usual tuxedo a couple feet away, irritably directing foot traffic as he steered people to where they could be seated. He couldn't help but smile slightly as they drew closer.

When he caught sight of them, the head of security quickly waved them over. "Ah! Peter. Ms. Parker," he greeted them. The teen's brow furrowed when he noticed the smile, one he really hadn't seen from him before, he sent his aunt's way. "We've got a couple seats reserved for you up front."

"Really?" May asked with a smile of her own. The teen's brow furrowed deeper.

Happy nodded earnestly. Then, almost seeming to remember that he was supposed to act like he was there to mourn for and celebrate the life of his long-time employer and friend, he cleared his throat as his smile faded a bit. "Yes," he answered. "Since Peter here was close to Mr. Stark through his internship, we thought that he... and yourself, being his guardian... should sit with us."

May's smile lingered as she turned to Peter and squeezed his shoulder. "Well, that's very kind and thoughtful of you, Mr. Hogan," she said sweetly.

"Wouldn't have either of you sitting anywhere else," Happy replied, his smile returning. He then offered his arm to her, which she took, to help her over a rougher patch of dirt and gestured ahead to a couple rows of seats that were blocked off from the general public. "Careful, watch your step... Wish we could be closer to one of the paths, but it was difficult to find a place to accommodate so many people." They both proceeded to laugh, almost as though some sort of private joke had passed between them.

Peter frowned as he walked over the same patch of rough ground unaided, directing the look up at the head of security as he watched May make her way toward the seats that had been reserved for them. "Happy... are you _flirting_ with my _aunt_? That's, like, weird."

Happy's eyes narrowed as he turned back to the web-slinger. " _What_?" he hissed, quickly looking around them before zeroing in back on Peter. "No, I'm not _flirting_ with your _aunt_. Don't be ridiculous..."

Peter arched an eyebrow. That's what it'd looked like to him. Even weirder, it almost seemed like she was flirting _back_. "How do you even _know_ her?" he wondered.

"If you must know, I accompanied Pepper when she went to meet with your aunt. Which your aunt requested, may I add." Happy rolled his eyes. "Relax. Stop making it weird."

"I dunno, Happy..."

Happy gave him a light but impatient nudge in the direction of the chairs. "Go sit. We're starting soon."

Peter smiled a bit despite himself as he wandered over to where his aunt had made it to the front row of white folding chairs. He immediately noticed Pepper, wearing a knee-length black floral print dress and a more practical set of platform heels, as she rose to greet May, the two women sharing a kind, comforting embrace. Rhodey was still sitting in the seat that the CEO had just left, wearing his Marines uniform, and was speaking quietly into his phone, Vision- appearing a bit odd, to him, in a suit of his own- watching him carefully from the seat next to him. "Just be careful," he murmured with a wary glance around before he slipped the device back into his breast pocket and rose to his feet to greet them, too. Peter immediately wondered who he'd been speaking to, if it was maybe Steve or Clint or...

"You must be May Parker," the colonel greeted with a friendly smile. He reached out and gave her a steady handshake and slight nod of his head.

May returned the gesture. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Colonel Rhodes," she replied.

"Pleasure's all mine, ma'am."

Peter glanced at the display ahead of them, his breath catching slightly as his gaze passed over the closed ornate casket, the colorful floral display, and the large photograph of a grinning Tony Stark that had been set up. His hands began to shake ever so slightly. It hadn't been all that long ago that he'd been in a place very much like this one, for the same reason, for someone else he'd lost who had been close to his heart...

Even though he knew it wasn't his mentor who was lying in that closed coffin, this was all too hauntingly familiar... he couldn't breathe... he couldn't stay here...

A pair of gentle hands landed on each of his shoulders, easing the tension in them as he was able to take a deep breath. He looked up to see Pepper standing next to him, giving him a kind smile. He leaned into her as she raised her gaze to the display he'd been staring at.

"You know... other than trying to keep up appearances, I also wanted to provide as nice of a funeral as I could for whoever actually is lying in that casket," she whispered, loud enough for only his ears to hear. "I mean... to die without a name, an identity of your own, to meet some madman's cruel endgame... to be buried without your family and friends... I couldn't stand the thought of it. So I did what I could for him. Everyone else may be here for Tony, but we... well... we wanted to give this man, whoever he was, the respect he deserves. No one deserves what he went through. No one."

The teen attempted to keep his impending anxiety in check. "That's very kind of you, actually," he muttered, his voice wavering slightly. "Not sure how many people would do that for a stranger..."

The CEO squeezed his shoulders in return.

"Hey, Peter," Rhodey said as he made his way over. "Hanging in there?"

"Yeah... yeah, I think I'm okay," Peter replied, his voice cracking a bit as he smiled back at him. "Looks like those braces are working better, huh?"

The colonel grinned. "Good as new, kid! Thanks again for working on 'em."

Peter nodded as his smile broadened. "Oh, it was nothing, really..."

People around them started to take their seats, and the teen watched as Rhodey and Pepper returned to their spots beside Vision. He then sat next to the CEO while May sat on his other side, taking a deep breath to try to keep it controlled.

"Quite the turnout."

The sudden familiar voice startled him, and the web-slinger whirled around in his chair to see that Nick Fury- dressed as nicely as he could be in all black without wearing an actual suit- was seated directly behind him. Maria Hill, her dark hair styled neatly in a braid hanging over the shoulder of her black, knee-length, sleeveless dress, was beside him, one knee crossed over the other. How had they gotten there without him seeing?

The former S.H.I.E.L.D. director gave him a brief, on the verge of conspiratorial wink with his one good eye just as Happy took his seat on the other side of May, and Peter slowly turned back around in his seat as a hush fell over the crowd, knowing that the memorial was about to start.

Pepper took a deep breath, closing her eyes for only a moment before she rose to her feet and slowly made her way up to the podium that awaited her and the others who would speak after her. She stepped behind it and adjusted the microphone, turning to look at the closed casket and the bright smile and beaming face of the man she loved more than any other. Her eyes traced every line, every scar, ever crinkle caused by his laugh- recommitting it all to memory.

The eyes of the world were on her now, her voice would be broadcasted into every living room across the globe. It was a pressure that didn't faze her, it was a pressure that she thrived under.

Though this time was different. Steve had warned her it was possible that the man who had taken Tony could be watching her now, either hidden in the massive crowd or from wherever they were now holding the billionaire. He'd warned her that there was a chance, no matter how small, that she may very well be a target as well, which is why they wouldn't be far away during the memorial.

Just in case.

But the knowledge that she could possibly be being watched, that she could be in some sort of danger, didn't scare her. Not at all. It just gave her more incentive to give the performance of her life. She had to make it believable that they would be burying Tony Stark.

Taking another deep, steadying breath, Pepper turned to face the crowed gathered before her. She stared directly at the cameras scattered around.

"As some of you may know, my name is Virginia Potts, and I'm the CEO of Stark Industries..."

* * *

 _"... I'd worked for Tony Stark for many years. It's the longest time I've spent in any one workplace. I began as his personal assistant..."_

He wasn't sure if it was the familiar voice or the pain in his neck and chest that brought him out of the darkness first. But it was that voice that Tony clung to as he forced his eyes to open with a groan, squinting a bit as he attempted to gather his surroundings.

But he hissed when he pushed himself up on one slightly shaking arm, putting his other hand to his chest. He was used to minor palpitations or pain ever since he'd had the Arc reactor and shrapnel removed, which especially acted up in times of stress, but it wasn't quite like this... He just needed to calm down, he just needed to breathe...

Which was next to impossible in his current predicament.

Tony let out a heavy breath as his eyes drooped closed, and he passed a hand over his sweat-drenched, clammy face. The image of a madly grinning Obadiah, seemingly somehow back from the dead even though it was impossible, his large fist tightening around his throat and squeezing the life out of him, was still fresh in his mind. He brought his hand to his neck, still able to feel the lingering ghost pressure of the other man's sturdy fingers there. He didn't know how much time had passed between then and now, considering that he'd wasted hours unconscious, only woken sporadically to take little bits of food and water that were forced on him before falling back under.

But he was still alive... Which meant that this imposter Obadiah had failed with his plan. If that had actually been his plan at all.

But then... what about Steve...? That threat he'd made against him...

The billionaire shook his head slightly. No, he couldn't afford to think about him at the moment. He had to think about his own situation, of how he could escape...

 _"... I suppose you could say that working as Tony Stark's personal assistant was difficult at times. There was so much that he had a hand in, and for the first few years being in the position, there were certainly times it was like pulling teeth to get him to a conference or a speech on time. Though that is something that had never changed. But it was a challenge I enjoyed. Tony Stark respected me..."_

 _That voice..._ He _knew_ that voice... He _loved_ that voice...

 _Where was it coming from...?_

He had to find her...

 _Pepper._

Tony looked around him at the small but dark room again, his hazel gaze immediately going to the vents high on the wall above him. There was no light mist being filtered into the room. Which meant her voice was _real..._

 _Pepper..._

The billionaire slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position. Though as his swirling brain continued to take in his surroundings, a cold rush of dread flowed through him.

He knew this room.

The red flag of the Ten Rings had been taken down, replaced with a long black and white photograph of an older New York City skyline at sunset. On one of the adjacent walls was an oval mirror with a faded gold, ornate frame and a couple black and white photographs of orchids and lilies and sunflowers. On the opposite wall were framed old newspaper clippings about Stark Industries as it made waves in weaponry advancement. About Howard Stark's achievements. About the successes of Captain America. An old, simple grandfather clock- which, as he remembered, had stopped ticking long ago- sat along that same wall, and a black armchair with a floral print throw blanket sat in a darkened corner closer to him. Beside it, a small wooden end table with an ornate white, dimly lit lamp, what looked like a glass of bourbon, and a short stack of scientific journals. He glanced down, finding he was sitting on a circular woven rug with a black and white checkered pattern. Directly across the room from beneath the photo of the skyline was a small tube television with an antenna sitting on top of it. The picture was a bit difficult to see since there was quite a bit of static, but the volume was loud enough where he could clearly make out the voice of his CEO.

Tony's body began to shake as hie breath came quickly, his heart racing. It was a compact version of it, but there was no mistaking his parents' sitting room. His father's influences, his mother's flourishes, both filled the small space of his prison. A part of him relished the familiarity of the fond memories he had of sitting in this very room with either Howard or Maria, reading stories or drawing with his mother and sitting on his father's knee while he reviewed any technological advances in the journals he read or poring over important Stark Industry files while nursing a glass of bourbon or smoked a cigar and- sometimes impatiently or dismissively- answered questions he'd bombard him with.

But another, larger part of him was filled with an almost primal terror.

How did Fennhoff _know_ about this room? How did he know so much about his old home that he could recreate this space in so much detail and so _accurately_?

It couldn't be possible... It _shouldn't_ be possible...

Though his attention was turned back tot he television as he continued to listen to Pepper speak. His brow furrowed in confusion as his anxious brain slowly started to make sense of her words. It sounded like she was... _remembering him_... Like a _eulogy_...

His heart nearly stuttered to a stop as his breath caught in his chest. She was speaking about him as if he was... No, it couldn't be... But there was no doubt about it.

He was watching his own funeral.

 _What had Fennhoff done?_

"No... n-no..."

Tony grit his teeth as he pushed himself to his knees and slowly crawled across the room until he reached the old television set. He reached out with trembling hands to fiddle with the antenna so he could see the picture better, his breath hitching when it was completely erased by static as its harsh should filled the small room.

"No, no, no, no... come on..."

He played around with the thin old wires some more before the picture came back. It still wasn't the greatest quality, but he didn't want to risk losing it again. At least he could see Pepper, at least he could hear her voice. Even if watching his own memorial was rather morbid.

The camera angle switched to show the large crowd that had gathered, and the billionaire's eyes widened in surprise at the near endless sea of black that had gathered in what he recognized to be Central Park. Despite himself, despite the throbbing pain in his chest and the uncertainty and fear of Fennhoff that was constantly looming over him, he felt a tired smile pulling at the corner of his lips. The camera zoomed in on kids wearing Iron Man masks and t-shirts, on others holding Iron Man action figures, on people of all ages holding signs expressing love and gratitude towards him.

There was a part of him, beneath everything else, that was relieved he'd somehow managed to, despite all the wrong he'd done and all the destruction he'd committed, positively reach and impact so many people.

The camera then moved to the first couple rows of mourners, panning over the faces there. Vision, Rhodey, Maria, Nick, Peter, May, Happy...

 _Peter._

Tony's heart leapt as he leaned forward a little, though the teen was already out of the shot. But he was certain he had seen him, and a sense of relief rushed through him. That meant that Peter had gotten off the roof of that building down by the harbor. He was all right. He was away from Fennhoff's clutches.

 _He was safe._

The camera then moved back to Pepper standing at the podium in front of the massive crowed, beside a large picture of him smiling broadly and a closed ornate casket that belonged to... he wasn't sure who. Not him, certainly... But he couldn't imagine what the mad doctor had done to make her... to make _everyone_... believe that he had met his demise.

His CEO had paused in her speech, her hands gripping the edges of the podium so tightly that her knuckles were white. Her bottom lip trembled ever so slightly as she sniffed, and if he looked closely enough, he could see a thin line of tears had formed in her eyes as she tried to regain her composure. Despite the somber occasion, he had to admit she looked beautiful in the black floral-print dress he'd bought for her a few years before for a fancy shindig or two held by Stark Industries.

But it was the despondent look on her face, the way her breath caught, and the helpless look in her eye that pierced his heart. Tony slowly reached out for the television, resting one dirtied, bruised, and cut hand on the screen over her image. He sighed heavily as his weary gaze wavered, willing with every fiber of his being that he could actually somehow reach her, that she could somehow feel him. Or even better, that he could somehow reach through the screen and pull her into his arms and take away all of her fear, sorrow, and uncertainty. To tell her what he should have told her that morning they'd gone out for breakfast together, before all of this started. To tell her that he loved her. That it'd always been her. That it'd never stopped being her.

"Oh, Pep..." he whispered. "I'm so sorry... I'm here..."

"She is beautiful, Mr. Stark. And I would assume just as intelligent if she is in charge of running your legacy. You are a very fortunate man."

Cold dread coursed through Tony's veins as his head snapped around at the unexpected familiar voice. Fennhoff himself was sitting in the black armchair in the corner with the glass of bourbon in one wrinkled hand, the other casually flipping the page of one of the scientific journals sitting in his lap. His cane rested against the cushioned arm of the chair.

How had he gotten there without him noticing...?

To his hazy mind, the older man eerily looked way too much like Howard Stark.

"She certainly is speaking very eloquently about you," the doctor continued as he skimmed over an article that had caught his eye. He paused in his reading to take a sip of the amber liquid, pursing his lips a bit as he swirled the drink around and the ice clinked loudly against the sides of the glass. "I do believe that she is rather fond of you."

The billionaire felt his heart beating furiously in his chest, the sound echoing much too loudly in his ears. "Leave... you leave her alone, you bastard..." he muttered, his anxious tone breaking ever so slightly from lack of use. He inwardly cursed himself, willing more strength into his voice. "You have me. You have what you want. Don't... don't touch her... Leave her out of this..."

He despised how much he was pleading with his captor, how he knew he was giving the enemy too much to use against him. But he found he couldn't help it. He didn't want to imagine Pepper in the hands of these people, forcing her to relive her darkest fears. He couldn't think about that. He had to protect her.

A moment passed before Fennhoff stopped reading all together and raised his gaze from the journal. "That, I'm afraid, would depend entirely on you, Mr. Stark."

Tony's jaw tightened as his breathing harshened, anger forcing out any fear. His trembling hands curled themselves into tight fists as he watched the older man set both the journal and the bourbon back on the small end table. As far as he could tell, they were alone in his prison- just him and Fennhoff. If it came down to it, he had no doubt that he could easily overpower him in a physical altercation.

But something still didn't feel quite right. Not only was he still feeling weak and sore from everything he'd already endured, but something still felt... off. Somehow, Fennhoff was still holding all the cards and pulling all the strings.

"You lay one hand on her, and I'll-!"

"You will what, Mr. Stark?" Fennhoff leaned forward on the armchair, a gleam of amusement flashing in his eyes. When his captive couldn't find any words, he gave him a knowing smile. "Shall we move on to the business at hand now?"

The doctor was baiting him, Tony could feel it. But hearing Pepper's voice speaking quietly behind him, knowing that she could be in danger if he didn't tread carefully, he allowed his exhaustion to overcome him.

"What business?"

Fennhoff grinned. "There is nothing to be ashamed of, Mr. Stark. Your father was also willing to compromise with me," he told him, and his quiet chuckle caused the billionaire's muscles to tense. "Do you recall the last time we spoke? The offer I made to you?"

Tony remembered. He remembered well. It was a thought that had bounced around in his mind when he'd been in and out of consciousness. But it was one that he couldn't bring himself to even pretend to entertain. He wouldn't sell his mind, body, soul to Hydra just so he wouldn't have to endure anymore pain. He wouldn't, even if it meant his life would be spared.

"I believe you know where I stand on your offer," he finally told him, steadily meeting his gaze. "It hasn't changed, pal. I'm not helping you rebuild your little gang."

The doctor nodded, as though he'd been expecting this answer, as he leaned back in the chair again. "It would be wise to keep my offer in mind, Mr. Stark," he murmured. Tony bristled. There was something _dangerous_ in his tone. "You would be spared from all the pain that is to come for you. Your powerful mind would be put to excellent use. And, quite possibly, you may even be able to see your lovely CEO again."

He absently twirled a simple gold band on his finger.

A sense of calm fell over the billionaire, his gaze locked on the band as it gleamed in the minimal lighting. Pepper... He could have Pepper again... In that moment, it was all he wanted. To hold her, to hear her voice when it wasn't through a television screen... All he had to do was say yes to what his captor was now offering him.

Pepper's bright smile flashed through his mind, the sound of her laugh echoed in his ears, the feel of her lips brushing against his could almost be felt...

They could be together again.

 _Pepper..._

No... no, there was a catch... This was a trap... It wouldn't be that easy... It _couldn't_ be that easy...

 _... Pepper..._

 _... I'm sorry..._

"Well? What do you say, Mr. Stark?" Fennhoff asked in just above a whisper, twirling the golden band once again as he leaned forward a bit in anticipation.

Tony continued to stare intently at the ring, unable to tear his gaze away no matter how much he wanted to. He hated how much he wanted to say _yes_ to the way out the doctor was giving him now...

He slowly opened his mouth, about to give his answer, when the spell was broken by a shrill ringing sound. Fennhoff heatedly cursed, hurriedly reaching into his pockets while the billionaire slumped to the floor. He rested his clammy forhead on his toned arms as his eyes slipped closed, his body shaking as he gulped in deep breaths of air. He didn't want to think about how _close_ he'd just come to agreeing to giving himself over to Hydra... to do whatever the criminal organization asked of him... And for what? Empty promises that the mad doctor would never keep? The very thought horrified him, and he shuddered.

"No..." he hissed through clenched teeth, mainly for his own benefit rather than for the other man. "I won't..."

It was that ring, he realized. Some sort of hypnosis? He would have to be more careful with that from now on. He couldn't fall into that trap again, especially since it was pure luck that he'd gotten out of it this time.

He then heard Fennhoff's angry voice over the sound of his ragged breathing, and Tony raised his head a bit to try and figure out what it was that had saved him. The doctor appeared absolutely livid that his plan had been interrupted.

"What do you mean there is a problem with the subject?" he asked into the phone at his ear, his anger easing into what appeared to be worry. "He was supposed to..." His sentence trailed off as he listened intently to the voice on the other end of the line. He then made a frustrated noise. "Very well. Observe the subject closely. Let me know of any changes in his condition. If he reaches a critical point, alert me immediately. Until then, I will see if there is anything I may do from here."

 _The subject?_ Tony's brow furrowed. What was _that_ supposed to mean? What else was his captor involved with.

Was he just another _subject_ in this twisted game?

Fennhoff sighed heavily as he ended the call before smiling at Tony. The look was almost kind. It was unnerving. "I apologize for the interruption, Mr. Stark, it appears that we must continue our conversation at another time," he said, his tone almost passing for casual. "There is a... situation at our facility that I must see to. If you would excuse me."

Dread flooded through Tony as he watched the older man grab his cane and pushed himself to his feet with effort. The facility... Hydra had a secret facility. Just how many operatives were there, actively working to rebuild to what they once were? What sort of potential weapons could they have had at their disposal? What sort of test were they running that they needed a subject to run them on? What was their endgame?

What exactly did they need him for? What did they want out of Steve Rogers since they wanted to pull him into all this?

It unnerved him that he couldn't answer any of these questions.

Fennhoff slowly made his way past him, leaning heavily on his cane for support as he crossed the room. Once he reached the door, he stopped and turned back to look at his captive thoughtfully. "I would advise you to continue to consider my offer, Mr. Stark. For it will not always be available to you," he told him, and Tony detected a warning in his words. "Though next time, I may not be so generous. For now..." He paused with a grin. "Enjoy the show." He then opened the door before stepping out of the room, shutting and locking the door behind him.

A moment passed before the billionaire allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief as he tried to find a more comfortable sitting position on the hard floor. He glanced at the picture on the television, seeing that the camera had panned back to the first couple rows of mourners as Pepper continued to speak about life with Iron Man. He frowned. He'd really put her through so much, more than any one person should have to go through...

And yet, she'd still loved him. They'd been making their way back to where they'd been before...

His weary hazel gaze passed over Vision, Rhodey, Maria, Nick, and Peter. And his heart seized with fear as his eyes widened.

Even though he'd been trying to figure out a way out of this predicament on his own ever since he'd been there, the possibility that whatever was left of the Avengers would still be pooling their resources to try to find him. To rescue him. It was a plan B to his own strategy. He still wasn't completely sure if Steve was truly looking for him- why would he bother?- but it would probably be better for the other man to stay far away anyway with whatever it was that Fennhoff had in mind for him.

But now... now as he watched his own memorial... the reality that there was no plan B sank in. If his friends believed that he was dead... what reason would they have to search for him? He still wasn't sure what the mad doctor had done to convince the world of his untimely death, but he had managed to reset the game board so that he was completely isolated from any help that could have been coming his way.

He was alone.

Then, Tony raised his gaze back to the screen when he saw Pepper... that beautiful face that he loved more than any other... was back, and she was smiling out at the crowd as a couple tears fell from her eyes. The sight of her trying to hold herself together broke his heart.

 _"Tony Stark may have been a complicated man, but he was a good man. He had a good heart, even when he wasn't flying around in that red and gold suit he loved so much. And I couldn't be happier to say that that heart, during the time that we had together, was mine. And that he'd always held my own."_ She paused, chuckling a little as she carefully wiped at her eyes. She then sniffed as she turned to look directly at the camera nearest her, and he noticed there was a faint gleam in her eye. _"We may have had our problems at times, we were both so stubborn... but somehow, we always found a way to come back to each other. I wish... I wish I could have told him one last time what I should have told him before any of this happened."_ She paused again, wiping at her eyes to hide the smallest of smiles that the untrained eye would have missed.

The billionaire brought one hand to rest on his chest, right where the Arc reactor had used to be, as he leaned closer to the screen. His eyes hadn't missed that look.

 _"That's one of my biggest regrets, that I didn't get to say this when I had the time. That's one thing I've learned in all of this- never go without telling someone how much they mean to you. And, Tony..."_

His breath caught in his chest when her eyes bored straight through the camera lens, straight through the television screen, almost as though she was looking directly at _him_.

Almost as if she _knew..._

 _Was it possible...?_

 _"I love you, Tony. I always have, and I always will. I never stopped."_ Pepper then covered her face with a hand as she took a step back from the podium, a fresh wave of tears overtaking her. The crowd applauded, the sound subdued, as Rhodey approached her and gently took her arm, helping her back to her seat.

Tony's gaze faltered. But yet, the tiniest spark of hope flared to life in his chest. He set his free hand on the screen where the camera was still showing Pepper in her chair as the colonel prepared to give his speech where he stood at the podium, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks as Nick reached forward and set a comforting hand on her shoulder.

He swallowed back the thin line of tears that had formed in his own eyes.

Maybe... just _maybe..._

"... I love you, too, Pep..."

 **Author's Note** : All right, that's it for this one! A little more information given here, but still so many questions. Just what does Fennhoff have planned? We'll have to keep going to find out! Many thanks to **CoffeeRanger** for Sam's "Captain Ameri-shouldn't" line! And I'd just like to say that I had this scene with Happy and May done before I saw the rumors about Far From Home... lol! Hope this makes up for my absence! The next chapter will be up as soon as possible, after I write it all out first, lol. Thanks for reading, and your feedback's always appreciated! And Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all who celebrate! See you guys next time!


	19. Chapter 19- The Boogeyman

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit. I also do not own Fury's beginning quote.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Hey, guys! Thank you for all your reviews, favorites, and follows, they mean a lot to me and keep me going! I'm glad you're all loving this story as we continue! We'll be learning a bit more about Fennhoff here through some speculation on the part of the Avengers, and through little bits of background information on how he's impacted some of them, which I'm excited to reveal since **CoffeeRanger** and I have been sitting on this for quite some time. So, let's see what sort of things this guy is up to, shall we?

Also a bit of an **important note** : While this story is primarily an **AU of Homecoming** , this chapter also contains an **AU of The First Avenger, Age of Ultron, and Civil War**. And it also makes a few references to the first season of the show Agent Carter.

Also a bit of a **trigger warning** , this chapter contains a brief, non-graphic mention of attempted suicide.

Hope you guys enjoy!

 _Chapter 19- The Boogeyman_

"Hello, Captain Rogers. It is an absolute pleasure to see you again."

 _Steve gazed back at Zemo's grinning face for a moment before he shook his head slightly. "I wish I could return the sentiment," he muttered._

 _Zemo chuckled, a gleam in his eye._ "To what do I owe this unexpected surprise?"

"Remember, you only have a minute," _Everett's voice came from off-camera, clearly nervous._

 _The Super Soldier sighed. "I need you to tell me where you found out about the details of the murders of Howard and Maria Stark," he told the prisoner. "And the Winter Soldier's involvement in it."_

 _The cruelly cheerful look vanished from Zemo's face as he frowned._ "Why would I do such a thing, Captain?" _he wondered._ "All that matters is I did what I set out to accomplish. The Avengers are no more."

 _A brief moment passed as Steve glanced back at those gathered behind him, seeing Pepper was watching the conversation tensely, Sam grumbled under his breath as he shook his head, Clint was glaring a hole through the hologram, and Rhodey's hands had curled into fists at his sides as he forced himself to not say a word._

 _"You must have found that information somehow," the Captain pressed._

 _Zemo shrugged._ "I spoke with a few Hydra agents to get what I required. I do have some… experience in that area. After all, I am an intelligence officer." _The disgust was clear in his tone, though, as was in the way his nose scrunched up a bit as though he was smelling something foul._ "All the information I needed was in that mission report. December 16. 1991. As well as all the information I needed to control your dear friend.

 _Steve's eyes narrowed. "But you must have found out about that night somehow," he continued, unable to completely hide the urgency from his voice. "You must have known that there was that information to be found if you looked for it. You weren't a part of Hydra, so someone must have told you to look. Who was it?"_

 _The Super Soldier had him right where he wanted him, he could see it in how the other man's gaze faltered as he looked away from the phone's screen. This was exactly what they'd been looking for. "Who was it, Zemo?"_

 _However, defiance appeared on the prisoner's face as he suddenly glared back at him._ "Why should I tell you?" _he spat._ "You are just as awful as they are, Captain."

 _"I knew it," Rhodey muttered angrily. "We're not gonna get anything from him, Steve. I'm ending the call."_

 _But Steve quickly shook his head, raising a placating hand. "Wait," he whispered before turning back to the hologram. "I understand your pain. I know how it feels to lose everything. I know how it feels to have your whole world crumbling around you."_

 _Zemo's eyes narrowed further._ "You could _never_."

"Ten seconds," _Everett spoke up again, his voice cracking just a little._

 _The Captain steeled himself, keeping his eyes steady on the other man's. "I know you lost your family and your home when we were attempting to save Sokovia," he tried. "I have no words to speak on that terrible tragedy, so I will not try. Nothing I can say can right that wrong or take away your pain. But someone is continuing the work you started, Zemo, and we believe you may be able to help us find them. All we need is a name, a confirmation. Please."_

"Good, I am glad to hear it. Let them continue it. You Avengers have taken away so much from so many people," _Zemo sneered._ "You do not deserve that."

"Five…" _Everett continued his countdown._

 _"I accept that responsibility fully," Steve told him. "Though Hydra is also at fault. They took your home away from you before we did. I know you despise them for all they have done, as well. We do, too. If you give us a name, we can stop them. That is all we need from you."_

 _Zemo simply stared straight ahead, his face full of hate, and remained silent._

"And, zero." _Zemo's gaze faltered ever so slightly, a tiny crack in his brooding demeanor, before the camera angle changed so that the hologram of Everett's face was back. He still appeared nervous, but under that was a trace of sympathy._ "I'm sorry that you didn't get what you wanted. Though to be honest, I didn't think you would… Anyway, I wish you all the best with your search, and I hope for the best result. Bring Stark home, Rogers. Colonel."

 _Steve sighed, his shoulders slumping a bit in defeat as he looked down. He'd known that asking for Zemo's help had been a long shot from the beginning, but he'd had to try if it meant possibly finding Tony. Beside him, Rhodey let out a long breath as well as he set a secure hand on the Captain's shoulder._

 _"Thank you for your time, Everett, we appreciate it," the latter said, though the disappointment in his voice was clear. He took a few steps forward to reach his phone to end the call. "Best of luck with your mission to South Korea. Bring in this dude."_

"Thank you, Colonel."

 _Clint and Sam exchanged knowing looks. Pepper glanced down at the tray she held on her lap, still containing a few pizza rolls, with a thin line of tears in her eyes as her hands shook ever so slightly. The Colonel reached his phone, but before he could touch the device, a sudden quiet voice stilled him._

"Wait."

 _Rhodey quickly looked up at the same time Steve did at the unexpected familiar accent, startled. Everett's brow furrowed in confusion as he looked at Zemo off-screen._

"What? Time's up! That's what we agreed on."

 _A beat passed._ "I wish to give Captain Rogers the name he is searching for," _Zemo said._

 _Steve's heart leapt while Clint, Sam, and Pepper looked up hopefully. Rhodey glanced back at them with wide eyes. "Everett, please," the Super Soldier murmured. "This could mean the difference in finding Tony in time or not."_

 _The other man appeared hesitant as he glanced quickly around him again. Then, he sighed heavily, passing a stressed hand over his face._ "Make it quick."

 _Rhodey quickly backed away from his phone, coming to a stop beside Steve. They exchanged a quick look, the former giving the latter a brief nod. Steve took a deep breath as the holographic form of Zemo reappeared. There was conflict in his paler features, an obvious struggle between the lesser of two evils, raging in his mind. He took a small step forward._

 _"You want to give me that name?" he prompted gently._

 _Zemo took a shuddering breath, hesitance and a flicker of fear passing over his face._ "I will give it to you on _one_ condition, Captain," _he said in a voice just above a whisper, almost as though he were afraid of being overheard by someone he didn't want to listen._

 _Steve nodded once, not breaking eye contact. If his suspicions were correct, he didn't blame the other man for being afraid. "Name it," he replied._

 _A moment passed before Zemo's eyes narrowed._ "I will tell you if you swear to me that you will stop this bastard."

 _The Captain took a few more steps forward to where Zemo was watching him with apprehension. "That is what we intend to do," he told him steadily._

 _The other man shook his head slightly, a few strands of his unruly dark hair falling into his eyes._ "Not good enough," _he mumbled, conflict once again crossing his face._ "If he finds out I've said anything… and he will… this cell won't protect me."

 _Pepper slowly rose to her feet, causing Zemo to glance in her direction, as she left her tray behind and walked forward to stand on Steve's other side, lightly grasping his arm. His gaze faltered as she gave him an encouraging nod. "Please," she whispered._

 _"You have my word," the Super Soldier told him with determination. "We will stop him."_

 _Zemo moved his attention from Pepper back to the man beside her, and he sighed heavily as he nodded a couple times._ "Very well." _He shifted to a more comfortable position, still appearing reluctant._ "I'd first seen him when Hydra moved into Sokovia, although it was primarily Strucker and his sect of agents. So it was rare for him to be there. He was very interested in what Strucker was doing with his… human experimentation to create enhanced individuals. He wanted him to share his research findings."

 _"Did Strucker share it with him?" Clint asked. If who they believed to be behind what had happened to Tony had ways to run similar test, it would mean disaster for them._

"I'm sorry, but I don't know for certain," _Zemo answered, sparing the archer a glance before turning back to Steve._ "He was not around too often, I only saw him a couple of times. It wasn't until after…" _He paused, his voice catching._ "… until after the destruction of Sokovia that I saw him again."

 _Steve nodded in understanding. "What happened?" he prompted softly._

 _Zemo's face remained eerily blank._ "After Sokovia collapsed, I went to this small tavern miles into the countryside, a local family run place," _he explained._ "I had been there many times, often as a spot to get away and think for a while. But that night… that night I did everything I could to _not_ think. I couldn't do that. I didn't want to feel _anything_. And I was well on my way there before he found me. I'm not certain how he did, but… he did. And he knew me. And what I'd lost. He knew… everything.

"I had already had a few drinks, and I had no intentions of leaving anytime soon. I believe the only reason the owners did not force me to leave was because they pitied me. But this man, he bought me another drink and offered to pay my entire tab. I couldn't say no to that. Though… honestly, I wish I'd had the strength to."

 _Steve sighed. He'd always known that Zemo had done what he had because the void left behind by what he'd lost that fateful day in Sokovia had swallowed his heart whole. But watching him now, he could see just how broken, how desperate, he'd been… and still was… to set out on that path against them to begin with._

 _"What did this man say, Zemo?" he asked gently._

 _Zemo met Steve's steady eyes with his own too bright ones. He let out a short, shaky breath, and he was unable to hold the other man's gaze as his face crumpled._ "He… he told me that… that he had a way to make things right. To fix things," _he murmured, his voice shaking ever so slightly._ "That he had a way to make those who'd made us suffer would suffer as well. That he had a way for them to feel the same pain I had." _He paused, shaking his head._ "You must understand, Captain, that after those first missiles fell, Strucker worked hard to lay the blame on Stark and the Avengers. And it worked. For most. He gave us an enemy that we needed at the time. We didn't realize he was stealing our home, our soul, from us."

 _"I understand," Steve said. Yes, he understood the horrors of war that affected the most vulnerable, the victims, all too well. He knew perfectly well how easy it was to create an enemy when the angry and the suffering demanded it. He knew how simple it was for the loudest, the most passionate voice to sway the masses when they needed to hear it, even if the words themselves were all lies._

 _A look of hopeful understanding flickered across the prisoner's face as he chanced another glance at Steve._ "He told me that he had a way for me to avenge my family. My home," _he continued in just above a whisper._ "At the time, those words were the sweetest words I could have heard. How could I not want that? My family… they were lost by the very hands who had been trying to save them. It only seemed right. I'd lost everything I had to live for."

 _Steve nodded, his jaw set but his gaze soft._

 _Zemo chuckled without mirth._ "Why do you look at me like that, Captain?" _he asked._ "I deserve neither your sympathy nor your understanding."

 _"Loss is loss," Steve simply replied. He took a deep breath. "This Hydra agent who approached you. He's the one who told you about that night in 1991?"_

"Yes. Or, at least, that something important happened on that night, and I could use it to tear apart those who had taken my family from me," _Zemo confirmed._ "He did not tell me exactly what it was, he wanted me to discover that on my own. All he told me was that I had the will needed to uncover that information and would use it well." _His brow furrowed in thought._ "And that… and I didn't think about this detail until now, a lot from that night is fuzzy… it involved Howard Stark."

 _The Captain's heart skipped a beat, though he kept his face indifferent. "He told you that it involved Howard?" he repeated._

 _Zemo nodded in confirmation._ "He seemed to have a great deal of interest in Howard. And in his fate."

 _Steve felt as though a great pressure had closed around his lungs, constricting his airway, as he shared a quick glance with Rhodey. The Colonel shook his head slightly, a bit unnerved about what this revelation could mean._

"It was only later in my discoveries I learned exactly what had happened, and about the Winter Soldier's involvement," _Zemo continued._ "And formulated my plan to draw him out in order to gain control of him with the words I had in my possession to start turning you and Stark against each other. Before I revealed what had happened to his father."

 _"So all of that was your idea?"_ Steve pressed. _"This man didn't help you with any of this?"_

 _Zemo gave him a smug smile._ "You would be surprised what grief and time to dwell on it can do, Captain," _he muttered before the look faded._ "But no, he only told me where to start looking and part of what I could expect to find so I'd know when I found it. I tracked down most of the agents I went through going off of what Black Widow released to the public, and the records I found along the way."

 _"That's dedication," Clint muttered. "You weren't promised anything in return for your services? Some kind of reward for this work you did for him?"_

"Only retribution," _Zemo told him._ "Recompence for what I'd lost. It seemed enough…" _He paused, lowering his gaze again._ "He made me feel as though he was giving me a… a gift, of sorts. A way to right this tragedy that I had suffered. And I… I wanted to believe him. Though talking about it all now, I realize I was a mere pawn in whatever plan he had from the beginning. He never wanted to help me…"

 _"You've experienced a pain that no one should," Steve told him. "To grasp onto any sort of lifeline, a way to numb that pain, isn't abnormal."_

"But acting on that vengeance is." _Zemo tried to meet the other man's gaze._ "You know, Captain… at first, I didn't want to accept what he was offering me. I did not want to take this way out, no matter how deep that pain ran. But he was so… _persuasive_."

 _Clint tensed. "Persuasive how?"_

 _Zemo turned his uncertain gaze to him._ "He was persuasive in the way he spoke. In how sweet he made his words sound," _he said._ "He made me feel that this was the right path to take. That convinced me to look for that damn mission report. But… one thing that really sticks out about that night in the tavern…" _He took a deep breath, his brow furrowing._ "He had this… gold ring that he'd sometimes twirl while we spoke. I found it distracting at first, which irritated me, but…"

 _The archer sucked in a deep breath, his slightly wider eyes landing on the back of the Super Soldier's head. "Steve…"_

 _"I know." Steve looked at Zemo closely. "This ring… After it irritated you, did it make you feel more at ease? Compliant?"_

 _Zemo nodded._ "Yes, exactly that," _he said._ "It was rather odd… It was almost… what is the word…"

 _"Hypnotic?" Clint offered. Oh, how he hoped he was wrong…_

 _But the prisoner nodded again._ "Yes. Hypnotic," _he agreed._ "He persuaded me into agreeing to search for the information I needed. That he wanted me to find and act on. Though I am not using that as an excuse, mind you. My hate, as misplaced as it may be, may have made me susceptible to his persuasion, though it was my own hate that drove me forward to fulfill this plan. That hypnotic feeling wore off after some time, anyway."

 _Clint heatedly cursed, turning away from the hologram and beginning to pace while Pepper watched him with concern. Sam and Rhodey glanced at each other._

 _"I don't think that's a good sign," the former muttered while the Colonel sighed heavily._

"When you mentioned that someone was continuing what I started… I knew it could be no one else," _Zemo concluded quietly._

 _Steve kept his gaze solely on the prisoner. "Zemo… what is his name?" he asked._

 _Zemo's gaze faltered._ "Before I tell you, I wish to say one more thing." _His nerves were palpable as he attempted a shaky smile. For a moment, Steve wasn't sure if he would tell them after all._ "While I may have my own issues with Stark, my son… his name was Carl… was different. The Iron Man was his favorite. It was his dream to be just like Stark when he great up. He had the mind for it, too. He was going to do big things one day…"

 _The Captain smiled in return. "Tony is the best of us," he replied. And he knew he meant every word. "We all regret the lives lost when we try to help those very people. But Tony… he was determined to do something about it. It was those people we lost in Sokovia and elsewhere that drove him to find a way to change things. I may not have agreed with him about how to go about changing them… I still don't… but he tried in the way he thought was best. And his heart was in the right place. Your son chose a great man to look up to."_

 _Another ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of Zemo's lips, though it had a somber feel to it. He swallowed hard._ "You know, Captain… Your friend. The Black Panther… After I revealed the truth about that night in 1991 to Stark and left you three tearing yourselves apart… I attempted to end it all. My job was done. All I wanted was my wife and child. I wanted nothing more to do with Hydra and this man… But the prince… he listened with a patience far more than I deserved. He understood. Even though he'd wished to claim my life for his own after the death of his father… something I did not intend, they both seem like brave and noble men, and I truly regret his loss… he prevented me from taking my own." _He paused, a thin line of tears appearing in his eyes as he took a deep, shaky breath._ "He told me that the living were not done with me yet. I used to hate him for making that call, it wasn't his to make. But now… Though to this day… after all I have done… I do not understand what he saw that caused him to spare my life."

 _Steve's brow furrowed as he nodded. "It was a decision he didn't make lightly," he said. "He saw a reason, he saw something in you that was worth saving. And you can use that second chance he gave you to help make things right now." He briefly paused when Zemo raised his gaze to his, the faintest hint of hope in his eyes. "Help us find the man your son aspired to be. Do it for his memory. Help us stop the man who used you when you were in pain. Zemo, give us the name of the man who started all this."_

* * *

"Johann Fennhoff," Steve said, his light gaze passing over the group that had assembled before him in the Tower's penthouse. What remained of the Avengers, Pepper, Happy, and Maria Hill all watched him with rapt attention. Those who had attended the memorial for Tony hadn't had the chance to change yet. It was the first time that most everyone could gather together. The only one missing was Peter, who was spending some time with a couple of his friends from school in order to cheer him up.

"For those who may be unfamiliar with that name," the Super Soldier continued, his eyes lingering on Scott the longest, "Fennhoff is a top level Hydra agent. If I had to guess, he is likely to be the last of that ranking, especially after Strucker's death and many others were caught after Nat released the files. Only problem is, as many who are associated with S.H.I.E.L.D. know, he's been nearly impossible to catch."

"Why's that?" Sam wondered, glancing at Maria sitting on the couch next to him. "I thought you guys were experts in this sort of thing." She rolled her eyes in exasperation, even as a smile threatened to tug at her lips.

"To risk sounding cliché, he's a master of both disguise and escape," Clint spoke up from where he was perched on the arm of the chair across from him. "He sometimes relies on different aliases to remain hidden in plain sight. Faustus was another common one he's used over the years, as is Ivchenko."

"There have also been conflicting reports on him over the years," Steve added. "Dating all the way back to when I was around during the War."

Scott arched an eyebrow. "So... what you're saying is that we're dealing with an _old man_?" he asked.

"That's the thing," Maria answered. "S.H.I.E.L.D.'s records had him being middle-aged to on the older side during that time. Same was when he infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D. after Howard Stark and Peggy Carter founded it."

"Infiltrated in what way?" Rhodey pressed.

"I'll have to ask Nick for sure, but I believe he was part of the staff as a therapist," the former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent explained. "But that was't until years later... Howard was married and had a young Tony at the time."

"And then, again, after I came out of the ice," Steve murmured, his gaze faraway.

The room was silent for a long moment, its inhabitants trying to make sense of this information. "So, this dude managed to infiltrate S.H.I.E.L.D. _twice_ , and y'all didn't catch him?" Sam ventured.

"There was mostly new staff, including myself, the second time," Maria said. "And Fennhoff managed to erase most of the data from the first time. He had a way of making people forget about him. Not to mention, there are the issues that have been mentioned before. The conflicting records about his death, and the age impossibility. No one could agree, despite him being considered one of the biggest threats to come out of Hydra."

"That's what gets me," Rhodey muttered thoughtfully. "If he was middle-aged, at least, during the War, then how..."

Steve took a deep breath. "I can't say for sure, I only read about this in the files about Fennhoff once I was a part of S.H.I.E.L.D., but it was reported he'd been involved in Doctor Abraham Erksine's work before he was later caught as a member of Hydra."

"Erksine," Natasha said with a brief nod. "The serum."

"The Super Soldier serum?" the colonel asked. "So, are you saying he's using the same stuff that's powering Steve?"

"Or has experimented with parts of it, perhaps extracting certain elements such as what impacts aging?" Vision suggested.

"I can't say for certain if he actually used it or experimented with it for himself. I'd only seen him maybe once or twice before I went into the ice," Steve told Rhodey. "But... Peggy told me once I'd started visiting her at the nursing home that she and Howard had dealt with him after I was gone. She helped to catch him once. Her memory may have not been the best then, but _that_ she remembered vividly. There wasn't much that she feared, but..." His sentence trailed off as he looked away, running an absent hand over his bearded chin.

"All right, so say that he _was_ using the serum, or some variation of it," Sam said. "That would explain this weird age thing. But could that also explain why no one could decide if he was dead or not?"

"It's possible," Natasha conceded. "While on the serum, the body can withstand a lot of punishment. Sometimes even things that could be fatal to others. That could be another way he escaped so much."

"He doesn't have the strength or speed that comes with it, though." Steve's brow furrowed. "When I saw him a few years ago... when he'd infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D. that second time... he was feeble."

"Is that when you thought he was dead, like you told us before?" Pepper asked.

The Captain nodded. "After I... dealt with him, yes," he answered.

"What happened?" Happy wondered.

But Steve shook his head. "That isn't important to what's happening right now," he murmured, his gaze faltering. "Point is, he's calling me out after what I did. But that doesn't explain why he took Tony when _I'm_ the one with the personal history with him. Unless he's using Tony to get to me. But that doesn't make sense, either. After what Zemo told us... and I believe him... Fennhoff knows what happened between us."

Clint's brow furrowed thoughtfully. "Zemo also said that Fennhoff had an interest in Howard and his work," he muttered. "Maybe there's something there?"

"I'm not sure what that would be yet," Steve said. "But that doesn't surprise me. Howard was a genius in his time."

Silence once again fell over the room.

"Okay, so it sounds like a couple of you have some past personal experience with this guy," Scott finally spoke up. "But what are we dealing with _now_? What are we up against with this oddly old man?"

"While he may not be a threat physically, he is in other ways," Clint told him. "He focuses on the mind. Hallucinations, making you question the truth, preys on your fears. He's got a special gas for that, but he's got other ways of influencing you, too. He also has henchmen who, usually, will dress as people important to his victims in some way. He'll utilize androids..."

"Androids?" Scott interrupted, turning to Rhodey. "Like those ones we fought down at the harbor?"

The colonel nodded. "That makes sense now," he agreed.

"So what would be his agenda now?" Maria wondered. "Calling out Steve after... well, after what happened a few years ago, I understand." She briefly lowered her gaze. The Super Soldier gave her a grateful look. "But you were still in hiding when Tony went missing... He must have eyes for him out there, and Steve was seen later..."

"That dirty cop, maybe?" Clint suggested, glancing at Rhodey. "The one who sent the androids after you?"

Rhodey clenched his jaw. "I wouldn't doubt it, man."

"But he started with Tony," Maria continued. "Why? Why are he or Howard an interest to him?"

"To rebuild Hydra?" Sam shrugged. "With Tony's brain, they'd get pretty far..."

Steve nodded once. "We were thinking that could be Fennhoff's endgame, too."

Cllint slowly rose from his position on the arm of the chair, pacing a little. "What really concerns me is Zemo said that Fennhoff was interested in Strucker's work with human experimentation," he muttered. "With enhanced individuals." He briefly shook his head. "If Strucker shared some of his findings with him, and if Fennhoff plans on rebuilding Hydra with enhanced individuals..."

Wanda took a deep breath, seeing that flickers of scarlet energy were sparking around her fingers. Vision glanced over at her from where he was sitting next to her on the couch.

"Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

A moment passed as Wanda got her power back under control before she met his gaze. "Yes... yes, I'm fine," she whispered, quickly looking away again.

Vision's eyes narrowed with worry, and he lightly set a hand on her knee. A hint of a smile appeared at the corner of her lips as she placed her ringed one on top of his, their fingers entwining.

"Can he accomplish that, though?" Maria wondered. "Without Loki's scepter?"

"That was my thought, too," Steve said. "I think until we find out more about what Fennhoff knows involving Strucker's experiments, we should keep a close eye on Wanda and Vision." When they both looked up at him, his features softened. "You are the last part of what came out of those experiments and how they were done. For your own safety, I believe it would be best if you remained under the radar as much as possible. Both of you. Just in case. The farther away we can keep you away from Fennhoff, the better." Clint nodded in agreement.

Wanda attempted a smile as she mirrored the action after she looked to the archer, lowering her gaze to her trembling fingers. Vision tightened his hold on them slightly in attempt to still them.

"Do not worry, Captain Rogers," the android assured him. "I will keep my eye on her."

"As I will keep mine on you," Wanda muttered, a hint of playfulness in her tone as she looked up at Vision with a small smile.

Pepper straightened up on the couch slightly. "So, Clint, tell me honestly," she said. "Are we screwed like you thought before?"

"Screwed?" Scott repeated, his eyes widening slightly. "Why are we screwed now?"

The archer sighed. "Maybe not... Typically with Fennhoff, you've gotta be on the same footing as he is. And we're not. He's a couple steps ahead of us with taking Tony and making it clear he's targeted Steve next."

"It sounds like you've had some personal dealings with him as well," Wanda said with concern.

"Clint met her gaze before he nodded briefly and looked away again. "I'm aware of what can happen when you're not fully prepared against him, even if you think you are." Natasha rose to her feet and walked over to join him.

"So, how do you suggest we get back on the same page as Fennhoff?" Rhodey pressed. "How do we find Tony?"

Steve glanced out the large window beside him, his gaze passing over the bustling city below them as the sun began to set. "Well, my guess is since he wants me next, he'll find some way to get my attention again," he replied. "The invitation left with the body you found down by the harbor was only the start. Knowing him, he'll do something more drastic next time. Something grander. Unless we can track him down first."

"That might be a trap," Natasha cautioned, looking away from Clint's impassive face. "He might be expecting that from you."

"But it also might get us closer to trapping _him_ ," Sam countered. "If we're careful about it... There's more of us than there are of him. I think. How do we track him down."

Steve and Clint exchanged glances. "Well, when Steve last saw Fennhoff a few years ago before S.H.I.E.L.D. collapsed, he was in D.C.," the latter explained quietly. "But as he handled Fennhoff directly, I discovered that his base of operation was actually in Jersey. They were masquerading behind an energy drink warehouse."

Scott couldn't help himself. He chuckled. "An energy drink factory? Seriously? Super villain much?"

Clint rolled his eyes. "Fortunately, Steve took care of Fennhoff, or so we thought, before any extensive damage was done," he concluded. "I'm not sure what they intended to do... maybe distribute the hallucinogenic gas through mass sales of the drinks, or something... but they abandoned it when Fennhoff was, presumably, dead. MOst of them were gone by the time I brought some agents to the warehouse."

"So you're saying Fennhoff usually has two separate locations for his operations?" Rhodey asked thoughtfully.

"At least he did last time," Steve confirmed. "Which is smart. I don't think Fennhoff would have taken Tony if he didn't have some help. Maybe some other underground Hydra agents. It's possible he's got Tony in one location, maybe even somewhat close by if he wants me, too, and he's got another location elsewhere where he's doing... I don't know what. Working on rebuilding, maybe."

"We could keep an eye out for any suspicious activity. Keep track of police records and other things like security feeds in the city and surrounding areas," Natasha offered. "If he is working on rebuilding Hydra, there may be some indications. Someone might see something."

"You work on running those programs," Clint said. "I'd like to take a look around that old warehouse again. I know they won't be there, but something may have been missed. Maybe something that could give us an indication of where they moved to next. When leaving in a hurry, something is usually left behind. It'd be a start, anyway. Cover our bases."

"I'll go with you," Scott volunteered. "I can look in smaller spaces..." The archer accepted with a nod.

"Any chance something could be found in D.C.?" Sam wondered.

Steve noticeably hesitated. "I... I don't think so," he told him, unable to look the other man in the eye. "I doubt it, actually."

Maria's gaze faltered. "I can take a look if you want me to, Steve," she muttered gently. "Ask some questions."

Clear relief passed over the Captain's face. "Thank you."

Sam and Rhodey exchanged glances, each arching an eyebrow. _Something_ had happened when Fennhoff had been in D.C., and it was clear that whatever it was still weighed heavily on Steve's shoulders.

Pepper wrung her hands on her lap. "What about Peter?" she asked.

"He should be informed," Happy added.

Steve nodded his agreement. "He should be," he agreed. "It's important he understands who we're dealing with. Fennhoff is a dangerous man. And the kid's somehow already ended up on his radar, and I'm not sure how. Peter's got nothing to do with Fennhoff. But Fennhoff seems interested. If either of you would like to let him know, that's fine. But I'd like a word with him myself. Just to make sure he understands what we're dealing with. Fennhoff's already in his head. I told him we were going to follow a couple leads, and depending on how that pans out, he can help us with the rescue effort to bring Tony home. We'll bring him in after we see what we can find. We can't go charging in blind. We'd lose."

The CEO let out the tense breath she'd been holding, setting her hand lightly on Happy's arm. "Okay... good. Thanks for keeping an eye on him that way."

The Super Soldier simply nodded.

Clint sighed as he surveyed the group. "The one thing to keep in mind as we move forward is to always stay on guard," he told them. "Fennhoff himself will likely not lift a finger against you, but he'll either have someone who will with him, or he'll have your own mind do it for him. And whatever you value... whatever and whoever you cherish most in this world... you hold it close. You protect it. Because whatever he can take from you, he'll do it without hesitation and will use it against you."

An uneasy silence fell over the room. Its occupants exchanged wary, heavy looks.

What sort of nightmare were they now going to walk into? What sort of living hell was Tony fighting through now?

"Sounds like the boogeyman," Scott murmured, his tone anxious. "How the hell are we supposed to catch the damn boogeyman?"

"By trying to be a step ahead." Steve sighed heavily. "Right. Let's move out."

* * *

 _"They are... exemplary."_

 _She winced, clenching her teeth and closing her eyes tightly as his wrinkled hand moved forward, his almost taunting accent echoing in her ears. She bit her tongue, nearly hard enough to draw blood when his fingers lightly trailed through her dark brown hair. She could feel the energy pulsing in her fingers... she felt her other half tensing angrily next to her, ready to land a lightning fast strike or to grab her and make a swift escape... but the agents around them were all armed. They may have been stronger than they were, but they were outnumbered, and their abilities were still too new to be reliable._

 _They could do nothing. Not that they had a choice._

 _"Yes, they are truly wonders of the natural order..."_

 _She slowly opened her eyes and glanced at her twin beside her, seeing his eyes were narrowed in fury at the old man before them. She glanced at him herself then, a shudder running through her when she saw the coldness of his eyes. But there was a strange... kindness, a curiosity, set in his lined features as he regarded her closely. Studied her. Her shoulders relaxed. The crimson energy dissolved at her slender fingertips._

 _But then, her heart chilled again when she saw the near cruel grin that spread across the old man's face. She reached for her brother's hand, comforted by the warmth of his fingers that secured around her own._

 _"Yes. They will do nicely."_

Wanda sat on the narrow sill of the window in the dark room she'd claimed for herself in the Tower, absently twirling strands of bright red energy between her fingers as she watched over the bright lights of the city against the night sky below her. She then turned her attention to her ringed hands, both slightly shaking, as she passed the crimson light from one to the other. She focused, a faint glow pulsing around her light irises as she began to form shapes with the light. Simple, at first. A spiral. A triangle. A crescent moon. Then a little more complicated. A star. A flower. A feather.

Her energy was in control. _She_ was in control.

 _Johann Fennhoff._

Wanda's breath hitched, the light between her fingers giving an intense burst crackling around her hands. She frantically tried to calm down, squeezing her eyes shut as she forced herself to take a few deep breaths. In through her nose, out through her mouth. In... out...

Most of the crimson finally faded from the other side of her closed eyelids, and she let out a deep, shuddering breath as a few tears trailed down her cheeks. She covered her face with trembling hands, choking back a near silent sob.

It had felt like so long since she had even thought about that name. That face. Those cold, calculating eyes. That cruel smile. His often disarming demeanor.

She remembered the few times Fennhoff had visited Sokovia while she and Pietro had been enduring and recovering from Strucker's experiments, especially when they had been the only two to survive them. He'd had a great interest in them, in what they could do, even while they were learning just what that was themselves. He'd been interested to learn Strucker's methods, about why they'd been the only two subjects to survive out of the many who had volunteered.

 _Subjects_. How she hated that word. It was all she and her brother had ever been to those men. Less than human. Not worthy of that name.

 _Monsters_.

But even when they'd been aligned with Strucker, even when they'd been led to believe what Hydra stood for, there was something different about the doctor that had _scared_ her. It had been a fear she'd felt to her very core. Primal. Even with her mental abilities, she'd always felt that he was one who could bend her to his will without effort. She'd doubted if even Pietro could have outrun his influence. She couldn't have been more grateful when she'd been broken free of Hydra since that had meant she had finally escaped _him_.

But now... Fennhoff was right in front of her once again.

"Wanda?"

The quiet sound of her name, the familiar accent filled with concern, made her tense muscles relax as her breath eased slightly. Wanda slowly lowered her hands, bringing them to rest on her lap as she squinted through the heavy darkness of the room to see a tall masculine figure standing in the doorway, holding some sort of case.

"Why are you sitting in the dark?" that soft voice that was able to bring her so much peace continued.

Wanda sniffed quietly. "Sorry, Vis," she murmured, her voice catching slightly. She then pointed to the approximate area of where she knew the light switch was and aimed a small trail of crimson energy at it. It hit the switch, just as Vision closed the door behind him.

As her eyes adjusted to the sudden flood of light, she saw immediately that he appeared different. He was wearing a dark gray t-shirt and blank pants, but he was _human_. A small smile appeared at the corner of her lips as her eyes roamed over the sharp angles of his face, the fair and slightly tousled hair, the pale softness of his lips. The Stone currently wasn't visible in the center of his forehead, but she knew right where it was. She could feel it. She could feel _him_.

She wasn't aware of how any of it worked, not really. Something about nanotechnology and molecules. But she didn't care. When they had begun to meet each other in unspecified locations after the Avengers had split apart to see if something between them could actually work, Vision had chosen this human form since, in his own words, he'd felt it would be more appealing to her. He wanted to learn to be human. So he could share human experiences with her.

Though to her, it didn't really matter. As long as she was around him, most of that empty void that had been left behind in Pietro's wake when his heart had beat its last was filled again. Because somehow, all three of them- her brother, the one she believed she could love, and herself- were all intertwined. They were all connected. And even though Pietro was gone, they always would be.

She wasn't sure if the two of them would ever be able to actually make something work between them, not really. They couldn't be like other couples. If that's what they could even call themselves. Not with only being able to find small stolen moments together with the fissures between their sides and her being on the run from the government for being the monster they feared her to be. But maybe, she thought, just maybe the fragility was the beauty of what they did have.

Wanda wasn't fully aware that she was still crying until the tears obscured her vision, and she quickly looked away so he wouldn't see. "Give me a minute, Vis..."

But the android set the long, rectangular case on the floor near the door before he crossed the room to her. He saw on the narrow sill beside her as best as he could fit, reaching out and taking both of her clammy hands in his despite the faint scarlet energy that still lightly pulsed around them. "Wanda, dear, you're crying," he murmured, bringing one hand toward his face.

Her eyes widened in alarm. "Vis, wait, don't..."

Vision paused for the briefest of moments, giving her a kind smile. "You cannot hurt me." To prove his words, he then brought her hand to lightly rest against his cheek. "See? No harm done."

Wanda looked back at him, seeing the soft light that still resonated in her fingers truly seemed to not affect him at all. She carefully brushed her thumb over his high cheek bone, wondering not only how he was able to appear so human but _feel_ so human, too. She even though she felt the faintest trace of fine stubble along his strong jawline, and the sensation caused her to chuckle.

"That's new," she commented. She raised her gaze to those light blue eyes she knew so well, those same ones that had always seemed to see her for who she truly was yet accepted her anyway... possibly even loved her... and the lingering energy burning in her hands slowly ebbed away.

Vision's smile widened. "Do you like it?" he asked lightly. "I was thinking of experimenting with a couple different looks."

Wanda shook her head slightly, affectionately, as a smile appeared on her own face. "As curious as I am to see how you would look with a beard, I like you just the way you are."

His cheerful look lingering, Vision turned his head a bit, leaving a soft kiss in the center of her palm. She took a deep, calming breath, weaving the fingers of her free hand through his. His smile slowly eased into a look of concern as his brow furrowed. "Will you please tell me what's wrong now?" he wondered quietly.

A moment passed where Wanda looked back out the window at the bright lights of the city before she met his gaze. "I'm scared, Vis," she said in just above a whisper.

The android scooted a little closer, securing his hand around hers. "Scared of what?"

Wanda gave him a small smile, before she carefully pulled her hands away and rose to her feet, taking a deep breath and wrapping her arms around herself in a protective way as she began to pace. Vision stayed where he was seated awkwardly on the sill, his long legs stretched out in front of him, watching her carefully.

"I remember him," she explained thoughtfully, her gaze darting around her with each step she took. "Fennhoff... From Sokovia. When Pietro and I were Strucker's lab rats."

Vision's light, worried gaze followed her steps. "What happened?"

Wanda finally came to a stop, tightening her hold around herself. Her fingers tightly gripped her black long-sleeved shirt, forcing herself to focus on the soft material to keep her power at bay. _She was in control._ "Clint was right when he said that Fennhoff was interested in what Strucker was doing with us," she told him quietly. "He stopped by the base a few times, mostly to check on our progress. He sometimes ran a couple of his own little tests, like how long it would take Pietro to run a certain distance at top speed, or if he could create enough inertia to move through objects, or how many objects he could move in a certain time limit. For me, it was how far a person had to be away from me to be influenced, or how far I could move an object before it was out of range, or if I could influence people or objects from another room. He wanted to see what we could do, how far he could push us. It was exhausting for both of us."

The android slowly rose to his feet and began to make his way toward her, his eyes narrowed. "It sounds as though he was preparing you for battle," he muttered, disapproval in his tone.

She gave a bitter chuckle. "That was our purpose... Strucker's perfect little weapons of war."

Vision stopped behind her. "Do you feel there is any legitimate reason for Clint to be concerned?" he asked. "Do you believe that Fennhoff may be interested in recreating those experiments to have his own enhanced?"

Wanda sighed as she turned to face him. "I don't see how he could, Vis," she answered, though her brow furrowed with worry. She raised her gaze, slowly reaching out and setting a slender fingertip against the center of his forehead, directly over the Stone. While it remained hidden, a faint yellow glow shone through his skin in response to her tender touch, and a flicker of scarlet rose to meet it. "He doesn't have you."

"Nor will he have you." Vision lightly gripped her upper arms.

 _Safe_. She was safe. The pressure in her chest eased. "Without a source of power like what Strucker had at his disposal, I don't see how he could conduct his own experiments to get the same results. Even if Strucker did share his findings with him."

Vision nodded thoughtfully. "I may not fully understand what this stone in my head is, but I do not believe that there is anything else that exists that is quite like it," he mused softly. His light eyes met hers. "Except for you. And your power."

Wanda's gaze faltered as she slowly pulled her finger away from his forehead, both the yellow and the scarlet glows fading. "I don't think it's likely that Fennhoff is running his own experiments," she muttered, lightly biting at her thumbnail. "I think what we should be more concerned about is what he could want with Stark. That's dangerous…"

The android's shoulders slumped a bit, concern appearing on his face. Wanda frowned before she moved closer, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his sturdy chest. It had always been odd, she thought, to not hear or feel a heartbeat whenever they were close like this. At least, not an organic one. It had unsettled her a little at first, to have something so fundamentally human so absent. When they'd first begun to secretly meet, and when it had started to go well, she'd wondered if love was even something the two of them could share without that missing piece.

But as his toned arms wound their way around her, protecting her and making her feel secure, she knew that all along, the reality was yes. He may have been learning as they went what it meant to be human, to share life with another person, but love was something he, deep down, seemed to know about.

Vision's concern for Tony was clear, and it was something she wished she could help ease for him. She'd helped him to experience the billionaire's loss, and he'd discovered the hope at hearing he was alive on his own. The loyalty he felt to his original creator, the part of him deep in his core that was still so inherently JARVIS, was clear, but she could tell that it was more than that. She had no doubt that it was with Tony where he'd learned about love, even if he didn't realize it, understand it, or know it by name.

"We'll find him, Vis," she whispered into him.

Vision briefly tightened his hold on her. "I know we will," he agreed. "We have to."

Another moment passed before Wanda pulled away a little, giving him a kind smile before she glanced over her shoulder at the door. "What did you bring?" she asked.

"Oh. Yes, that. Well." Vision cleared his throat. He then released her before he crossed the room. "I am afraid that I could not find the original case for it, so I had to make do."

Tilting her head a bit, Wanda wandered over to where he was crouched in front of the long, rectangular case, slowly kneeling beside him. She brushed a stray strand of her light hair behind her ear before she reached toward the case, seeing that Vision was looking at her with hope in his slightly wider eyes. She unlocked the latches before lifting the lid, and a broad smile appeared on her face when she saw its contents. Beside her, relief crossed the android's face.

"Oh, Vis…"

Wanda reached inside and carefully pulled out the acoustic guitar Tony had gotten for her, setting it on her lap. She ran a slender finger over a couple of strings before she sighed, an almost sad look passing over her face as her brow furrowed.

"What's wrong?" Vision wondered. "I had thought this would make you feel better."

"It does, is, it really does," Wanda assured him, setting her hand on top of his. "That's not it. I promise, I love the thought." She weaved her fingers through his, holding them tightly. "This was the main thing I was missing from the compound. It just… reminds me of him, you know?"

Vision secured his hand around hers, lightly running his thumb over her finger. "Your brother."

Wanda nodded before she chuckled. "It's why I told Stark I wanted this when he asked me what he could get for me to make me feel at home," she murmured. "Not that a lot of things don't remind me of Pietro, but… this is special. Because it was special to him before everything changed for us. And sometimes… no, never mind, it'll sound silly…"

"How could it coming from you?" Vision gently placed his free hand beneath her chin and turned her face to his. "It will not to me."

A minute passed as she studied his face, finding nothing but earnest truth, before she smiled faintly. "Okay… Pietro was my twin. And because of that, we had this… this connection that I don't think many people understand. It always joined us, it was as though our souls were two pieces of the same whole. I could always feel if he was happy or upset or if he needed me, even if he didn't say a word, as he could with me. And it was always the most comforting thing, having him always right there with me even if we were apart. Especially when we only had each other. It was an understanding we shared that I've never experienced with anyone else. The only thing that has come close to it is what I feel with you."

Vision watched as her gaze moved from his eyes to the center of his forehead and back. He understood; he felt it, too. They were joined in a way that neither one of them fully understood. He gave her a brief nod, urging her to continue.

"Before what happened in Sokovia… the longest time Pietro and I were ever apart was when he was born twelve minutes before me," Wanda said, absently tracing circles into the back of his hand with her thumb. She chuckled before the cheerful sound faded. "After that, we were inseparable. Until Strucker came, and he would often keep us separated when he was running his tests. But Pietro, he was adamant that we were not to be kept apart too long, or else he wouldn't cooperate. Especially if we felt the other had had a particularly rough session."

She paused, lowering her gaze to the guitar resting on her lap. "Before that, though… it was always us. Our parents never gave us separate rooms because our apartment wasn't big enough, but also because they knew we'd end up in the same room, anyway. I was afraid of a lot when I was little. The dark, thunderstorms, the monsters under my bed… When I had those difficult nights, I'd always sneak into Pietro's bed, but he'd always expect me. Hearing his heartbeat was the only way I could sleep. It was the same when we had to wait those long two days under his bed after the bomb that destroyed our apartment, afraid another would kill us, too. Hearing his heartbeat was the only way I could get any rest while he kept watch. And while we were kept under lock and key with Strucker, hearing Pietro's heartbeat was how I would calm down after a session or on a night I couldn't sleep when we were allowed to see each other. If we weren't, I could still feel it, and that was enough."

The android's brow furrowed with concern.

Wanda took a deep breath, swallowing hard against the tears threatening to rise to her eyes. "When he… when he died in Sokovia…" She shook her head slightly. "He didn't want to leave me, Vis… I shouldn't have told him to…"

Vision squeezed her hand. "It is not your fault, Wanda," he assured her quietly. "Do not have these thoughts."

"How can I not?" Wanda asked, her voice shaking ever so slightly. "He went to fight because I told him to. I lost half of myself that day because I didn't listen when he didn't want to leave. I felt the moment his heart stopped beating. It felt as though mine had stopped, too. Like I was no longer breathing. For the first time, I could no longer hear or feel his heartbeat. It was worse than those twelve minutes without him… I was empty. It was the most alone I'd ever felt. I didn't feel alive. And I'm the one who told him to go, Vis…"

"You could not have possibly known what was going to happen." Vision reached out with his free hand and set it on her cheek, tenderly brushing away a stray tear that fell from her eye. "Please, Wanda. You could not have known." When she simply closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, his gaze faltered. "You are certain bringing this did not upset you?"

Wanda nodded as she opened her eyes and gave him a small smile. "Quite the opposite," she told him. She looked down at the guitar, once again plucking a couple of the strings. "This was what I was afraid was going to sound silly, but I sometimes feel like he's still with me."

"How is that silly?" Vision pressed, inclining his head. "I'd thought that was a common belief when a loved one passed on."

"It is," Wanda said. "But this… this is different."

"How so?"

"Maybe it's because we're twins, but… with some things, such as this guitar, I feel like he's closer to me," Wanda tried to explain. She took a deep breath. "And I'm going to sound crazy, but… there have been times where I've thought that I've… almost felt Pietro's heartbeat again. I know it's not possible, but…"

Vision looked back at her curiously. "Go on," he prompted.

Wanda met his gaze. "When Pietro and I were helping in the aftermath of the initial bombings, I tended to a lot of people who were missing a limb, or part of one," she told him. "One thing they would often tell me is that even though their arm or leg was gone, they could still feel it. A phantom limb, a ghost pain, they called it. It took them a long time to adjust to not having their limb. And I wonder if it's the same thing for me… Pietro was a part of me, as I was of him. His heart was something I always had. And…"

She paused, a fond look in her eye. "There have been times where I would swear I hear his heart and can feel it beating against my own, just as it always used to. After he died… there were so many nights I couldn't sleep. And during those nights, his heartbeat felt so real that I could sleep, just like when I was little. And before Clint, Scott, and I came here, there was a night where a massive thunderstorm hit. Our motel was so small and feeble that I was certain it wouldn't withstand the storm. Scott slept through it, and Clint tried to calm me, but nothing he did worked. Then, there it was. It was fainter than it was shortly after his death… maybe I've come further in accepting that he's gone, I don't know… but I thought I felt Pietro's heartbeat that night, and I could sleep. It's my own phantom limb, my own ghost pain."

Vision gave her a calm smile. "I do not believe that sounds silly," he said. "I must be able to pick up on that as well."

Wanda's brow furrowed. "You are?"

The android nodded. "Yes, when you believe you're experiencing this… phantom limb," he explained. "To me, it feels as though there is a second life force, one that is not yours. Though with as close as you and your brother were, and as close as we are, I imagine I am feeling your emotional response to what you believe you're feeling. That imagining his heartbeat brings you comfort since it did when he was alive. It is a beautiful thing, Wanda. Not silly."

A moment passed before Wanda's smile broadened, and she left a light kiss on his thumb. "Thank you for understanding," she murmured. "And for making me feel like I'm not crazy."

Vision returned the look. "I could never believe that."

They fell into a comfortable silence, simply soaking in the other's presence. Then, there was a quiet knock on the door, and Wanda rose to her feet to answer, guitar in hand. The smile returned to her face when she pulled it open.

"Hi."

Clint nodded back, opening his mouth to say something before he paused, his brow furrowing in confusion when he watched the android stand to join her. Understanding crossed his face. "That's, uh, that's a good look for you, Vision," he muttered, smirking slightly before turning back to Wanda. "I'm gonna grab Scott, and then we're gonna head out to that warehouse. You ready?"

Wanda nodded. "Yeah, I think so," she said.

Vision looked at her with confusion. "You're going along?" he asked.

The archer looked back and forth between them before he quietly cleared his throat. "I'll give you guys a moment," he said. "Wanda, meet us down in the lobby when you can."

"I will." Wanda watched as Clint disappeared down the hallway before she turned to Vision. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before…" she began.

"No, that's not it." Vision reached out, lightly taking her hand in his. "It could be dangerous. We were just speaking about how it would not be good if Fennhoff were to see you."

"Fennhoff isn't going to be there, Vis." Wanda squeezed his hand. "I just really feel like I can help Clint if there's something to be found. I am familiar with Fennhoff. I just… I need to get off my ass and face this fear that I still have because of him. To help find Stark."

The android nodded once, meeting her gaze. "Let me come with you," he murmured.

Wanda smiled slightly in return. "I think you should stay here," she replied just as quietly. "There's that part of you that still has to be connected to Stark in some way. You know that. I think you could do a lot of good helping Natasha with running her security checks to try and narrow down possible locations where he could be with that information you have and what you can get access to. I promise I'll be careful."

Vision considered this for a moment, defeat crossing his sharp features. "If you need anything at all…"

"If I need you, you'll know." Her gaze moved to the spot in the center of his forehead where she knew the Stone resided. "Trust me. This just seems really personal for Clint. And with as much as he's done for me, I need to help him now."

"I understand. And I know my services would be beneficial to Natasha." Still, Vision's light eyes flickered with concern. "Just be careful."

"Of course." Her smile broadening, Wanda held the acoustic guitar out to him. "Keep this safe for me?"

The android returned the look as he carefully took the instrument from her. "Perhaps when you return, you could play something for me?" he suggested.

Wanda laughed. "I'm still not too great at it, Vis…" she warned.

But Vision didn't seem deterred. "I won't judge you," he told her lightly. "Besides, practice is… what do they say… practice makes perfect."

"All right. Fair enough, then." A fond look passed over Wanda's face when she met his gaze again, her laughter lingering in her eyes. Vision's smile lingered, and he gently pulled her closer to him. She sighed with content when his arms surrounded her.

"I'll be back soon," she mumbled into his shoulder.

Vision nodded once. "And I'll be waiting for you," he replied.

Wanda looked up at him, seeing their faces were inches apart. She brushed her nose against his, feather light, as he rested his forehead against hers. A beat passed before they both leaned forward to close the gap, and a spark moved through her as their lips softly met. It was still a bit of a strange sensation for her, but it was one she'd certainly gotten used to as he continued to get more familiar with it as well.

"I should go," she whispered reluctantly when they broke apart.

Vision nodded, watching as she crossed the room tow here her scarlet coat was lying on the bed and slipped it on. She then hurried over to the door, hesitating briefly as she looked back at him. His smile steeled her resolve, and she turned and disappeared into the hallway.

The android looked down at the guitar he still held before he carefully set it back in the case he'd found for it and shut the lid. He carried it over to the bed, setting it down gently. He then wandered over to the window that overlooked the brightly lit city, and he crossed his arms over his chest as his brow furrowed when he turned his gaze in the direction of where New Jersey would be.

"Just be careful."

* * *

 _"Get down!"_

 _A blast went off not too far from him, shaking the structure's foundation as the heat from the explosion washed over him…_

 _The old man watched the chaos around him, a gleeful look on his face, before he began to make his escape…_

 _He took off after him, but he stopped abruptly when the high-ranking Hydra agent quickly turned on him as a second agent appeared beside him, the latter's gun raised…_

 _Of course… he should have expected it… he hadn't been thinking…_

 _"Clint!"_

 _A pair of strong, sturdy hands grabbed him from behind, shoving him out of the way as bullets rang out…_

 _His eyes were wide with horror as he watched the other man fall, struggling to try and escape the new set of arms wrapped tightly around him to pull him away…_

"Clint."

The archer hissed as the familiar quiet voice reached his ears and the light hand touched his tense shoulder. He flinched away from the gentle touch, regretting it the moment he did as the warmth left him as she let him move away.

"I'm sorry…" he murmured.

"Don't be," Natasha said, though she didn't move closer. "I know what you're thinking about. I didn't mean to startle you."

Clint sighed heavily, running a gloved hand slowly over his face. "You didn't," he replied. "It's just…"

Natasha nodded. "I know."

A moment passed before Clint turned to her, and she could see the uncertainty in his features. "I'd hoped it wouldn't be him," he admitted quietly, not quite able to meet her gaze. "Fennhoff's a virus. A snake. Cut off his head, two more pop up in its place. It doesn't even seem possible…"

Natasha let out a quiet breath, chancing a small step closer. He didn't move away. "We'll handle it. Just like we always do." She paused, hesitant, when he nodded as he looked away from her. "I know what he did to you. What he took from you. You don't have to do this, Clint… You don't have to go back there."

"He won't be there," Clint countered quietly. "And it's not where…" His sentence trailed off, his gaze faltering before he steeled himself. "I'm just thinking that if there's _anything_ we possibly could have missed last time that could somehow help us now…"

"I know. I get it," Natasha muttered. "Just don't let your feelings about Fennhoff get in the way."

Clint looked back at her with a smirk. "You give me too little credit, Nat."

Natasha smiled slightly as she approached him, briefly resting her blonde head against his toned shoulder. "Be careful, anyway," she told him quietly. "You have your comm. If you need anything, you call us. We'll survey what we can around the area with the address you gave me. And Sam's sending Redwing along."

"I will. Promise." Clint's smirk eased into a smile as she looked back up at him. They then lightly bumped their fists together before he made his way toward the main door of the Tower. "I'll let you know when we arrive."

"You'd better," Natasha retorted.

Clint sent her a wink. Natasha shook her head slightly as she crossed her arms in front of her chest, trying to hide her smile.

The elevator dinged quietly behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder to see Scott and Wanda step into the lobby. "Are you sure you guys don't want to take the jet?" the assassin wondered.

Clint looked back at her from the doorway. "No, the car's less conspicuous, and it's not that far," he muttered. A hint of a smile appeared at the corner of his lips. "Save the jet in case you guys find something while we're gone."

Natasha nodded slightly as Scott and Wanda joined the archer. "We can hope… Keep in touch," she told them.

After a quick glance outside to make sure no one was paying them any attention, Clint nudged his two companions out into the night. He watched as they hurried down the sidewalk to where his car was parked a couple blocks away before he glanced back at Natasha. His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked.

Natasha tilted her head slightly. "Like what?"

"Like I'm about to do something incredibly stupid."

Despite herself, Natasha chuckled briefly. "Well, I don't know if I'd say _that_ , exactly…" But then, she sighed. "Do you blame me for being a little concerned? If it weren't Fennhoff, I wouldn't give this a second thought. But what if he expects you to go back there, Clint?"

The archer didn't answer right away. If he were being honest, the thought had crossed his mind, too. "It's Steve he's focused on right now, not me," he told her.

But still, Natasha couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was off. "What if he's seen you, too?" she posed. "You know how he feels about you after-!"

"At least it'd be me and not you. Besides, I believe Fennhoff's already taken his pound of flesh from me." Clint met her gaze. "We'll take what comes our way when it comes. But we'll be okay, Nat."

"I know we will," Natasha replied. She wished she could believe it as effortlessly as she said it. "Let us know what's going on and if you find anything?"

"Always do." Clint glanced outside, waiting for only a moment for his window of opportunity before he disappeared into the night.

Natasha lingered in the lobby for a moment, her mind racing.

 _Johann Fennhoff._

Damn, it had been a good while since she'd thought about that name. And the man behind it. The mad doctor. She had liked it that way.

And now…

Natasha shook her head, knowing these thoughts wouldn't help Clint find a lead to Fennhoff, or they wouldn't help to locate Tony. She couldn't dwell on all that had happened then.

She couldn't even imagine what the billionaire was enduring at the hands of the doctor. She knew that he wouldn't agree to join Hydra willingly, he'd fought against them for far too long to do that. But Fennhoff knew how to break a person down, to stick his claws in flesh and bone and shred away layer by layer until there was nothing left of his unfortunate victim's very essence. At best, they would linger on as a shell of their former selves. At worst, they would live without living, almost as though they were among the walking dead.

Death was a mercy he didn't often grant.

Tony was strong, she knew that well. He could last quite some time against Fennhoff's influence before bending to his will, she was certain of that. But everyone had their breaking point. And there was enough in Tony's past to dredge up that could make him shatter. They'd have to act fast to find him before Fennhoff caused damage that was irreversible.

But what purpose would that serve? Natasha frowned. If the doctor wanted Tony to help rebuild his criminal organization, he would him at his best with all of his mental faculties at their highest. Tony's mind would be their most powerful asset. They couldn't risk losing that. So perhaps he would be spared from the worst of Fennhoff's so-called treatments in order to preserve him.

Unless he didn't agree to his demands.

Either way, they'd have to find him as soon as possible, either to keep him out of Hydra's ranks or to make sure the Tony they brought home was still their Tony.

Natasha sighed, once again glancing at the door. Clint would be all right. He was strong, too. Even though he wouldn't be dealing with Fennhoff- _not yet_ \- he was more than capable of running this recon mission. As long as he kept his emotions in check and his head on straight. Under normal circumstances, that was a concern that wouldn't have even crossed her mind when it came to the archer. Usually, nothing could faze him while on a job.

But Fennhoff wasn't a usual case. With what he had taken from Clint, with what had nearly happened between all three of them, Fennhoff was in his head. She could see it herself, just like she knew the doctor had always been in hers. It was a dangerous disadvantage to have, even though he was just dealing with the ghost of the high-ranking Hydra agent left behind in this location.

But still. Clint was strong. She could check up on him. Fennhoff wouldn't be at the warehouse, he was too smart to linger in a place his operations had already been discovered and failed. And if there was some sort of clue that had been left behind to be found, the archer would find it. And hopefully, that could bring them one step closer to finding Tony.

Speaking of.

The assassin turned on her heel, heading back toward the elevator. Vision and Sam were already working on setting up security feeds both around the city with input that Redwing had been able to gather so far and what the android could tap into with resources around the Tower, as well as to survey the warehouse in Jersey where Clint, Scott, and Wanda were headed.

It was a start, and hopefully they would be able to turn up something on the missing billionaire soon and bring an end to the doctor's unchecked reign of terror.

Before Fennhoff could do something even more drastic to get what he wanted.

* * *

 _"Johann Fennhoff? Yeah, I know him well."_

"I thought you might," Steve muttered, his blue gaze faltering as his fingers tightened a bit on the edges of the tablet he held.

Bucky's eyes narrowed slightly, the dark circle under them noticeable in his pale face. _"You're sure that it was Fennhoff who took Tony?"_ he asked quietly.

Steve nodded. "Afraid so, Buck," he answered. "I thought he was done for a few years ago, not long before you went after Fury, but… he survived. And I'm guessing he had a secondary location that he escaped to since he wasn't rounded up with the rest of the high-level agents after the files were released. Zemo told us that Fennhoff was the one who sent him on his mission to go after us, and-!"

 _"And to find the words,"_ Bucky added, his gaze hardening. _"That doesn't surprise me. Fennhoff knew them."_

"Fennhoff knew the words?" the Super-Soldier repeated. "The ones to control you?"

Bucky nodded once. _"Yeah, he…"_

Steve's brow furrowed when the other man stopped speaking, thinking for a moment that the program had frozen. It had happened before. But then Bucky blinked, and he realized that his attention had been stolen by something behind him in the direction of the doorway of his room. Steve glanced over his shoulder, seeing that there was nothing there. But something, or rather _someone_ , had been there as he caught a flash of short, bleach-blonde hair before she was gone.

"Buck?" he prompted gently, turning back to the screen.

 _"Right. Sorry, Steve."_ Bucky turned his tired gaze back to the Captain. _"Fennhoff knew the words since he helped to implement them. He was pretty heavily involved in the Winter Soldier project all the way through it. Most of the brainwashing techniques were his."_

Steve shook his head slightly. "What _wasn't_ that man involved with?" he murmured, mainly to himself, as he glanced out the window at the night sky. "I know he was wanted by other Hydra agents for his consultation on things they were working on because of his rank, but…"

 _"His main project was me,"_ Bucky finished for him. _"Controlling me. Turning me into a weapon of mass destruction. And trying to create more like me."_

That made the Super Soldier pause. He hesitated briefly. "So… did he know that Howard had…"

 _"I believe so,"_ Bucky confirmed.

Steve worried his bottom lip between his teeth thoughtfully. "So maybe… maybe we're approaching this the wrong way, Buck. Maybe this does have to do more with me than Tony…"

 _"Well, didn't you say that Tony disappeared before you went back to New York?"_ Bucky wondered. _"It's no secret you two have been driven apart and the Avengers are done."_

"Yeah… unless he thought I'd try to find Tony if I knew he was in danger," Steve countered. "Even despite what happened in Siberia. And he knew about that, since that was his plan through Zemo…"

Bucky let out a quiet breath. _"That's still leaving a lot to chance. Too much for Fennhoff. What if you hadn't been close enough to know that something had happened to Tony, or to be able to act on it?"_ He paused. _"Knowing Fennhoff like I do, I'd guess that he had a reason for wanting Tony. With the Avengers divided, it would be easier. And when you arrived to help, it gave him an opportunity to target you, as well."_ Though his tone remained even, almost disinterested, the anger was evident.

"We're thinking that it's possible Fennhoff wants Tony to help him rebuild Hydra." Steve slowly passed a hand over his face. "Which makes sense to me, but… what if there was something else to it? Possibly something concerning Howard? Zemo mentioned him, too."

 _"During the time I spent with him, he did seem to dwell on Howard a lot before I murdered him."_ Though he didn't sound fazed by the matter of fact statement, Bucky's gaze faltered. _"There seemed to be something there he couldn't let go of. Howard helped stop him a couple times in the past, right? Along with Peggy?"_

"Right," Steve said, his eyes distant. "Which is why it makes sense to me that he wants me. After I…" He was relieved when Bucky spared him with a nod. "But Tony? All this over some grudge with his father?"

The other man shrugged. _"We don't have Howard to tell us all that happened between him and Fennhoff, so it's anyone's guess,"_ he replied quietly. His frustration was clear.

"Something had to happen there…" Steve briefly shook his head as he stood, beginning to pace with the tablet. "What are we missing, Buck?"

Bucky slowly shook his head. _"I don't know,"_ he admitted. _"I can give you a call if I think of anything, but right now…"_

Steve was silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. "The one thing I still don't understand, the thing that doesn't quite seem to fit, is Spider-Man's involvement," he mused. "What possible reason could Fennhoff have to go through all the trouble of making the kid look guilty of Tony's murder when he could have just as easily taken him without that step?"

 _"Well, as I'm sure you know, Fennhoff doesn't leave loose ends,"_ Bucky muttered. _"He once had me kill a man simply because it was a mean to get to his father, who'd been in his crosshairs."_

At this, the Super Soldier came to an abrupt halt. A cold dread flooded through him. "That's it, Buck," he said in just above a whisper. "I've been looking at it all wrong. Framing Spider-Man has nothing to do with him. It has to do with _Tony_. He probably didn't even know who Spider-Man was before that day. But now, he's essentially isolating him, putting him at risk, by making him guilty. And if I know Tony, he likely put the kid's safety before his own…"

He paused, looking out the window again, this time in the direction of the harbor. "This isn't safe for Spider-Man to get involved with anymore. Even to bring Tony home. Tony made a mistake that day. He gave Fennhoff his weakness. And now he's exploiting it, and he's going to use the kid as a tool to make Tony do whatever he wants."

 _"And if Tony wants Spider-Man to live,"_ Bucky concluded grimly, _"he will."_

* * *

Peter laughed a little as Ned accidentally dropped a few of his napkins on the floor after attempting to show off a bit with balancing a salt shaker before glancing at Michelle sitting at the table across from his best friend. He had to give her credit for sticking it out with them when they'd found him after the memorial was over. He was surprised they had even been at the event to celebrate the life of his mentor since while Ned had always been a nerd for everything involving the Avengers, he didn't think Michelle cared. But when they'd approached him and May as Happy was accompanying them back to their car- Ned in his suit with his light pink tie a bit crooked, and Michelle with her black and dark gray striped t-shirt, black faux leather jacket, black jeans, and black combat boots- he had to admit he was touched that they'd come to support him.

And not to mention, he was surprised when she agreed to catch the latest action flick with them before joining them for dinner at a local diner. Or that Happy had even allowed him to go off with his friends on his own with a promise to call if he saw anything weird or suspicious while hanging out. But he knew that when he and Ned got together, they could sometimes be a bit out there, which most of the female population at school didn't seem to be cool with.

But Michelle seemed… okay. She reached across the table and grabbed Ned's straw since she didn't get one with her soft drink, tore off one end of the wrapper, and blew the rest of it at him. Ned blinked when it hit him square in the nose, chuckling a bit as Michelle tossed the straw lightly in his general direction.

"Great, I can't use that now, thank you…"

"Good! It's a waste, anyway."

Peter smiled. Despite everything going on around him, despite feeling like the world was crumbling beneath his feet, it felt good to pretend that he didn't have problems that were threatening to crush him for a few hours. That night, his spirits definitely felt lighter.

For the first time in a while, he felt… normal.

"Good shot," he said.

Michelle returned the look with a shrug as she leaned back in her own seat, glancing over her shoulder at the counter. The diner was bustling that night, likely due to how many people had gathered for the memorial, and it'd already been about twenty minutes since they'd ordered. Not counting the half hour they'd waited, just to get seated. But none of them minded. It was just good to be spending time together, even if the room was a bit too crowded and the music a bit too loud.

"So, I heard that Liz and her mom are moving to Oregon," Michelle suddenly muttered as Ned finished straightening up his napkins and moved his straw aside. "Today would have been her last day."

Peter's face fell. "Oh… Really?" he wondered. He sighed. "Yeah, I _really_ messed that up…"

"Dude, she was _pissed_ when you totally stood her up at homecoming," Ned said.

"Yeah, well… something else came up…"

"That's not why she's leaving." Michelle situated herself in her chair to face both of them. "Her dad got arrested for arms dealing, and he didn't want his family around for the trial."

Peter frowned. Toomes had broken the law and had been involved with something dangerous, that much was true. He deserved to be in prison for a while. But to see the other side, to see how his arrest had impacted his family, was jarring. He knew that Toomes had been doing what he was in order to provide for his wife and daughter after his livelihood had been taken away in part because of Tony, and he'd just gotten in too deep in the dealing end of things.

And he couldn't forget how the man had protected him when the man who had killed his uncle… no, it couldn't be him, it was impossible… had been looking for him. Toomes had had the chance to hand him over, but he didn't. Even though he knew his secret, knew that he was Spider-Man. Despite all that Toomes had been wrapped up in, he believed the man was good at heart, and it bothered him to see how his actions had hurt his family. There was a lot more gray area in the world than he'd believed when he was a kid playing superheroes, and if he was going to be an Avenger, knowing that things weren't always black and white, even with dealing with the villains sometimes, was going to be crucial.

That was when he noticed Michelle was looking at him expectantly. "Oh, sorry, did you say something?" he asked. "Sorry. Blanked out there for a sec…"

Michelle briefly raised her eyebrows, taking a quick sip of her cola. "I was just saying that Liz told Ned that she hopes you get whatever weird thing's going on with you figured out," she answered.

Peter arched an eyebrow of his own. Though, quietly, he hoped so, too. With everything happening with Tony's disappearance, keeping the secret that the rogue Avengers were helping to try to find him, and dealing with not only that he was Spider-Man but that he was wrongfully wanted for murder that hadn't even happened, it wouldn't surprise him if it outwardly appeared as though he was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Ned took a sip of his Mountain Dew, sucking on an ice cube. "She has no idea what Peter's doing," he muttered. He then narrowed his eyes at his best friend when he received a swift kick to his shin. "Ow, dude!"

Michelle didn't even look up at them as she raised her hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I don't even wanna know…"

Peter chuckled, but he froze when he saw the girl's right hand moving right toward their exhausted waiter, carrying their hot tray of food over to their table as quickly as he could. Without thinking, he leapt to his feet- quicker than he probably should have been able to- and grabbed a secure hold of the tray while also reaching across it to keep the plate furthest from him from toppling to the ground, just as Michelle's hand accidentally knocked into it. The teen let out a slightly shaky breath, knowing their food would have likely spilled all over her, and on the floor, if he hadn't acted.

Ned's mouth dropped open, the ice cube slipping out and landing on the table. "Dude…"

Michelle's eyes widened as she looked up at him. "Uh… sorry about that, I wasn't watching…"

Their waiter laughed- the sound slightly hysterical- as he waved off her apology. "Don't worry, no harm done." He sent a badly concealed look of shock at Peter before he turned back to the other teens as the web-slinger took his seat. "Now, who had the chef salad?"

Peter cleared his throat quietly as the overworked man set the bowl full of greens and veggies in front of Michelle, trying to avoid the piercing gaze she was sending his way. Instead, he settled on looking at Ned's wider eyes, and he could read the look there plain as day.

 _Nice going, dude!_

Yeah, he knew he messed up. But he hadn't even though about it… He was just lucky only a couple people other than Ned- who knew his secret- hadn't seen.

The waiter set the double chili cheeseburger with steak fries in front of Ned and the lemon pepper chicken in front of Peter before scurrying away to take care of more orders. Michelle added a light layer of dressing to her salad before she returned her gaze to the web-slinger.

"So. What was that?" she wondered lightly.

Peter laughed, hoping the sound wasn't quite as nervous as he felt. "That was, uh… that was…"

But his sentence trailed off when the back of his neck tingled, the hairs on his arms standing up. He sucked in a breath. Something was wrong, he could feel it. He cast his gaze around the crowded diner, but he spotted nothing out of the ordinary as people laughed and talked loudly together…

There

By the door.

Seemingly waiting for a seat to open up.

The dark hair. The thin goatee. The scar set in his right cheek. The black leather jacket. The green bandana.

The night of homecoming came rushing back to him, when he had confronted Toomes and his mysterious client. It was just as impossible now as it was then.

He had died that day, too…

He was once again staring at the man who had killed his uncle.

* * *

 _He followed after Howard down the long, brightly lit hallway, having to hurry to keep up with his father's long strides. He looked around in wonder at the people bustling around them, all wearing similar uniforms, as he wondered if someday, he could be one of them, too…_

 _"Keep up, Tony. Don't fall behind."_

 _Tony frowned as he looked up at Howard's broad shoulders and the back of his graying head. His father was important here, he knew. An authority figure, someone others looked up to. He then glanced down at his swinging hand, fighting the urge to reach out and grab it so that they wouldn't get separated. Even though the distance between them wasn't great, the man still seemed too far out of reach._

 _He followed Howard around a corner, startled when he bumped into him since he'd abruptly stopped. This time, he did grab the man's still, calloused hand, not sure what was wrong. But Howard didn't fight it._

 _As Tony looked around, he didn't see what had caused his father's strange behavior. In fact, he smiled when he saw a familiar face at the end of the of the hallway they'd just entered. He released Howard's hand, ignoring the man's whispered- his_ panicked- _word of caution as he hurried toward the older man's welcoming embrace…_

Tony took a sharp breath as he looked around the small room, not realizing he'd even dozed off on the too familiar woven, black and white checkered rug. The room was the same as it had been before, all except the television was now switched off since his memorial had ended some time ago.

To the world, he was officially dead.

All alone.

Except… _Pepper had said_ …

He shook the faint hope from his mind, from his heart, as he instead focused on the strange dream he'd startled from. He'd recognized the maze-like hallways of the old S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters and the familiar uniforms the agents he'd seen wearing, remembering there had been a few times when he was a child that Howard had brought him along to work with him. He just hadn't recognized who they had run into… But he'd known him, of that he was certain. And he'd been happy to see him. He just hadn't seen his face…

Though more importantly, who had shaken the nearly unshakeable Howard Stark?

But then, his brow furrowed when he heard quiet voices not too far away. The billionaire raised his head and looked toward the door, seeing Arsen and Bao were standing in the doorway in full Bucky and Captain America costumes. He strained his ears, trying to catch what they were saying.

"Word is, the bird's let his nest," the Winter Soldier rip-off was muttering. "He's helping the Captain try to find our guest. They were spotted at the memorial together."

Captain… _Steve_. Bird… left his nest… _Clint_ …? Was it possible the archer was trying to find him? Like Steve was? Was it possible that they'd actually attended the event for him? Tony didn't think it was possible for either of them to do either thing, especially now that he was supposedly dead, and _especially_ not after what had happened in Germany and Siberia…

But if they were looking for him… did they know he was alive…?

Why would _they_ want to find _him_? They were wanted men. He wasn't worth that…

"So, the bird's finally left his nest, has he?"

Tony's blood ran cold at the sound of the quieter new voice.

 _Fennhoff_. He must have returned from checking out whatever subject their was other than him at his other facility.

"Ah, yes. Our queen who moves across the board like a knight. Our wild card. Trying to rescue the king."

Chess, Tony knew from all the times he'd seen his father play. It sent a chill down his spine. They were all just pawns on the board in Fennhoff's twisted game.

Silence. The billionaire listened to his heartbeat thundering in his ears, his breath quickening. He didn't like the tone of the doctor's voice. There was a bitterness, a malice, in it that he hadn't heard before…

But there as also, strangely, a note of respect.

 _Clint… be careful…_

"And I know just where he's headed," Fennhoff continued. "He likes to cover his bases. We'll send in our own wild card to rip off his wings."

 _… Oh, God… Clint…_

Then, Tony gasped when the television suddenly turned on in front of him. He slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position, his hazel eyes narrowing when it took him a moment to understand what he was looking at. He leaned closer to the screen. It was black and white security footage, seemingly of both the interior and exterior of what appeared to be a warehouse that had been abandoned for quite some time.

"Send him in."

The billionaire's head snapped up to see that Fennhoff was now standing on the other side of the television, still addressing his henchmen. _How had he gotten there so fast…?_

The doctor then turned his attention to his prisoner once Bao and Arsen had left, and Tony's heart filled with dread at the cruel smile he saw in the old man's face.

"Please… don't do it…"

Fennhoff inclined his head as he regarded him curiously. "You want me to show mercy to this man?" he asked. "After all he's done? After how he fought against _you_?"

Tony's eyes narrowed. The old man was trying to get under his skin, he knew. To turn him against his former teammate. He wouldn't let it happen. "What… what did he do to you…?" he spat.

The doctor let out a long, suffering sigh. "He took something important to me," he explained quietly. "I, of course, returned the favor. I couldn't have that. An eye for an eye, and all that… The only problem with that is, I don't like being even. And I can't risk him doing it again."

Tony's heart raced. "Please… don't…"

Fennhoff met his gaze. "Still pleading, are you? I might consider _some_ leniency…" he muttered, "though only if you agree to my terms."

Join Hydra… for Clint's life. Tony closed his eyes tightly as he ground his teeth together. He couldn't do that, he just couldn't… Helping to rebuild Hydra would go against everything he ever stood for.

But Clint… After all that had happened between them, Clint was still someone he considered a friend. He couldn't just let him get hurt by Fennhoff's hand. What would the assassin tell him to do…?

To not join. He would tell him to not bend. Of that, he was certain. And from what he knew of Fennhoff, the old man likely wouldn't even keep up his end of the deal if he did agree…

But still… if it meant saving the archer… he had no other choice.

He must have taken too long to answer, since Fennhoff's cruel chuckle echoed in the small room. Tony slowly opened his eyes, looking up at him with fear.

"Enjoy the show, Mr. Stark."

 **Author's Note** : So while we've gleaned some information on Fennhoff, there are also a lot more questions. Just what has he been involved with involving a few of the Avengers? What personally has he been involved with? We'll keep learning more as we go along! Thanks for reading! Your reviews, as always, are much appreciated. The next chapter is about halfway written out, so hopefully it won't be too long before I can post again. Until next time, guys!


	20. Chapter 20- Funhouse

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit. I also do not own Fury's beginning quote.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Hey, guys! Thanks for your reviews, follows, and favorites, they mean a lot to me! I won't keep you much longer from this chapter! Let's see what Peter ends up getting himself into, and what sort of fun that Fennhoff has in mind for Clint, Wanda, and Scott while they look for Tony, shall we? References made to _Ant-Man_ , _Age of Ultron_ , and _Civil War_ ahead. Enjoy!

 _Chapter 20- Funhouse_

Peter's breath caught in his chest as he watched the man who'd haunted his nightmares ever since that fateful day casually looking around the crowded diner. By all appearances, he was looking for an empty seat. But deep down, the teen knew he was looking for him. He had to be. He just knew it, his senses had been telling him so ever since he'd first seen him the night of the homecoming disaster.

 _How did he find him…?_

"Dude, what's up with you?" Ned asked, nudging his arm.

Michelle arched an eyebrow. "Seriously, you're acting really weird, Peter," she added.

But Peter just chuckled, the sound not even quite half-hearted, as he attempted a smile and turned back to glance at his friends. "Nothing, I'm fine," he muttered. "It's, uh… boy, it's crowded in here, huh? Loud. Say, how's your food?"

Ned shook his head slightly while Michelle set her fork down and leaned forward on the table. "Seriously, Peter, what's going on?"

But the web-slinger hardly heard her question. Red flags were being raised all over his senses, he felt as though something sharp was piercing the back of his neck, tapping into his spine…

He slowly turned to look over her shoulder, seeing the dark-haired man was staring right at him. And despite how his pulse was racing and his palms were sweating, he stared right back at him, unblinking. Not standing down.

He couldn't… not again. Not when he had more people he cared about with him.

He couldn't lose them, too.

The man smirked before turning, walking back out of the diner.

The teen tensed, perched on the edge of his chair. There had been a challenge in that man's stare. If he were to follow, it could be some sort of trap. And he was on his own, the rest of the Avengers were at the Tower, working on locating Tony. So they could all bring him home.

But they'd be _pissed_ if he ran into this alone…

The Tower wasn't too far away… someone from the team could probably join him in a few minutes to figure out what was going on…

But they needed to pool all their resources to find Tony. His mentor was in more immediate danger than he was. There was more at stake if they couldn't find any leads. There was a race against time to find him, that much was obvious even though no one had told him so…

But what if he _didn't_ follow?

There was a bad feeling blooming in his chest. But what could he do? He should be able to take care of this without anyone else having to get involved. No matter how impossible it all was. That way, no one would have to take any valuable time away from tracking down the billionaire. He was an Avenger, after all. Well… unofficially, but still. He was a part of the team. He could do this. Hopefully.

Besides, he had to find out what was going on. He had to find out how the man who had killed his uncle was still walking around when he had died shortly after the attempted robbery…

 _He had to follow._

"Earth to Peter?" Michelle prompted, tapping the table in front of him for emphasis.

"Yeah, you're _way_ out in outer space, dude…" Ned added.

Peter turned back to his two friends. "Sorry, guys, I'll be right back," he said, quickly rising to his feet. "I have to, uh… I have to make a phone call…"

Ned and Michelle exchanged disbelieving glances. "Peter-!" the former began, ending with a sigh since the teen in question was already making his way through the loud, crowded room and heading toward the door.

Peter frowned as he politely edged his way past a young couple with a crying baby, feeling bad about leaving the other two behind with just a lame explanation that they probably didn't even believe. Ned would probably understand it, once he later told him the truth, since he was his guy in the chair, and it was Avenger business. Probably. But Michelle…

He sighed. Michelle was cool. But Liz obviously hadn't been able to get past his odd behavior when it came to the responsibilities he'd taken on as the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. After how he'd acted these past few minutes, he wouldn't blame her if she couldn't, either. Oh, well. That was the superhero life. He wouldn't be able to keep everyone. Though he supposed losing her friendship this way was preferable to watching her not want anything to do with them after Ned asked her if she wanted to help them build their Lego _Millennium Falcon_ , or something. She may have put up with them for this long, but that was likely asking too much.

The web-slinger finally made it through the bustling crowd and pushed open the door. The cool night breeze swept over him as he stepped outside, trying to catch his breath as he looked up and down the sidewalk. Aside from normal traffic and happily talking people walking by, he didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

Had this strange man already left, thinking he wouldn't follow…?

Peter took a few steps away from the front door of the diner, his senses still on high alert. The hairs on his arms were still standing on end, the poking feeling on the back of his neck returned…

And a pair of sturdy hands grabbed him roughly from the shadows of the diner's alley.

* * *

"So, I found a couple of these lying around, y'all. We'll have to get some more for all of us when we actually face this guy, but they should be helpful, I think. Y'all said this Fennhoff guy uses a hallucinogenic gas, right?"

Natasha glanced over her shoulder from where she was seated on one of the couches in the penthouse, watching as Sam approached where she and Vision had camped out to set up their technology hub. Rhodey had left a little while before to meet with a couple police officers he did trust to ask them to keep an eye out for anything suspicious, the same ones he'd consulted about keeping the fact that Tony was actually alive a secret for now. She noticed he was holding a few white masks that medical personnel often utilized. She arched an eyebrow.

"I don't wanna know why Stark had those lying around, but yeah, those will be helpful," she said, turning her attention back to the laptop in front of her, which she was using to tap into the security feed of the old energy drink warehouse and former Hydra base that Clint had given her the address for. Currently, both the interior and the exterior seemed quiet. Nothing out of the ordinary. But still, she hoped that their three teammates would be in and out quickly. There was something about all of this that unsettled her. "That gas is one of Fennhoff's primary weapons. If we can neutralize that, even better."

"That's what I thought." Sam sat down in one of the chairs nearby with a sigh, checking his tablet that was streaming the live feed of footage Redwing was getting as it followed Clint, Scott, and Wanda's car. It was a little gritty and was lagging just a bit due to the distance, but it was good enough to see. "I think they're getting close to that warehouse… It looks like the area."

"All right. Almost show time." Natasha kept her calm, her collected, mask in place. She had to. She couldn't let those cracks start showing when there was nothing to cause them other than her own mind.

And her own dealings with the mad doctor. She knew all too well how his mind worked, how he'd gotten into her mind, also. She couldn't rest until he was put away- or brought down- for good this time.

The assassin then glanced over at where Vision was standing in front of one of Tony's expensive digital computer screens, which he'd set up to display a detailed map of New York City and some of the surrounding areas. His red brow was furrowed as he studied it, the Stone in the center of his forehead glowing ever so slightly as glowing lines stretched across the map marking streets and various locations. The harbor was illuminating brightest- the point of origin.

"How's it going, Vision?" she asked. She knew it was likely too soon for a lead, but she had to ask. If anything, to feel as though they were making any progress at all in their search. And to distract herself from the pesky worry that had burrowed deep in her gut.

The android hummed quietly, his sharp blue eyes not leaving the wide screen. "It will take me some more time to collect some more data to add in and take into account, as well as to distinguish any potential patters, in order to narrow down some of the more likely areas that Fennhoff could have taken Mr. Stark to," he explained. "Though it is my opinion that they would take him to a less populated area since with someone of such high regard and recognizability, they would risk being discovered should Mr. Stark manage to escape. I am integrating population ratios now."

 _Escape_. That was nearly impossible. Fennhoff never left any room for error. "Maybe somewhere more upstate, then?" she suggested. "Away from the city?"

"That's possible," Sam conceded, rubbing his tired eyes. He sighed. "But if this guy wants Steve, too, wouldn't he stick around a bit closer?"

"Maybe," Natasha agreed. "Or he could have stashed Tony away somewhere further away while he hunts Steve. It's true that he usually has more than one base of operation at a time. Less chance of losing everything if he gets discovered."

Sam mumbled a couple choice curses under his breath. "Is there any way… I don't know, any way to track Tony, or something of his, specifically?"

"Not that I've found yet," Vision told him. "His phone was likely destroyed in the explosion, as was his suit. Mr. Stark did have devices implanted into his arms in order to call suits to him from anywhere, which I could have tracked, but something must be blocking the frequency."

 _No room for error._ Fennhoff was thorough.

Natasha sighed as she flipped between a few different screens on the laptop, each showing various security feeds she'd managed to hack into around the city. Street corners, long and empty roads, bustling buildings. So far, nothing that jumped out at her that was suspicious in any way.

Footsteps drew closer, and Maria appeared as she walked over to the chair Sam was slouching in. "All right, guys, I'm headed out to D.C.," she said when he and Natasha glanced up at her. The android appeared oblivious to her presence. "I bought you both some coffee since it seems like it's going to be a long night…"

Sam sat up straighter with a grin. "Oh, girl, you get me," he muttered, taking the Styrofoam cup she offered him from the tray she carried. "You are a lifesaver."

Maria returned the smile before she turned to Natasha and offered her the second steaming mug.

"Just set it on the counter, and I'll grab it shortly."

"All right." Maria looked at the large, glowing map before she sighed. "Best of luck… Let me know if you or Clint find anything."

"Will do," Natasha replied. "Let us know if you turn up anything in D.C."

"I will." Maria gave the group one more hopeful smile before she wandered over to the counter and set the coffee down. Sam rose to his feet and joined her as she headed toward the elevators.

"Are you sure you don't want anyone to come with you?" he wondered quietly.

Maria pushed the down arrow button, glancing over at him as she waited. "Are you offering?"

Sam shrugged with a slight smirk. "If you want me to," he replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

The agent smiled. "Thanks, but I should really do this one alone," she told him.

"Right." Sam stuck his free hand in the pocket of his jeans. "Super secret mission for Steve, I forgot."

"More to protect his privacy in a sensitive matter." The elevator dinged, and Maria took a deep breath as the doors slid open. "But… maybe next time I have an assignment out of town, I'll take you up on that offer."

Sam grinned with a slight nod. "All right, girl, I'll take that. Though if you need any help with anything, hit us up."

"I will." Maria returned the look before she stepped into the elevator, turning to look back at him with a small wave before the doors closed behind her. Sam let out a quiet breath before he returned to his spot on the chair. He glanced at the tablet as he took another sip of his coffee, and his brow furrowed.

"Hey, Nat, I think they arrived at the warehouse."

 _"Come in, Nat. We're here."_

Natasha flipped the screen back to the exterior footage of the warehouse as the archer's quiet voice resonated through the comm piece in her ear, seeing the black, unregistered car that Clint, Scott, and Wanda had been using when they'd been on the run was parked not too far away from the abandoned building. Three people who she knew to be their teammates in question were slowly and cautiously making their way toward the door.

"What the hell?"

The assassin glanced up at Sam's sound of frustration. "What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.

Sam met her gaze from where he'd been glaring at his tablet screen. "Redwing's footage isn't working," he answered.

Natasha leaned closer. "Is it too far away to pick up?"

"No, he's still within range." Sam shook his head. "But it's not coming in… It's almost like something is jamming the feed. There's _nothing_."

 _No room for error…_

Natasha quickly turned back to her laptop. The security footage seemed to still be working fine. She watched as Clint held the door open for Scott and Wanda to step in first before he walked in after, the door closing behind them. But all of her senses were on high alert.

Something was _wrong_.

She was about to switch to the interior feed when she froze. There had been slight movement at one of the dark second story windows. It was so small that she was surprised she caught it, she briefly thought she may have even imagined it, but it caused her blood to run cold.

It wasn't possible for any of their teammates to get up to the second level that quickly.

She immediately switched to the interior feed, quickly scrolling through the upper floor views. But there was nothing. It was empty.

But yet…

"There's someone else there," she whispered.

Sam looked back up at her mid sip, confused. He swallowed before he frowned. "What?"

"They're not alone." Natasha continued to go through the second floor rooms on the security footage, but no matter how many times she looked, there was no one.

"Are you sure?" Sam got to his feet before sitting on the couch next to her to get a look at the screen. His eyes were wide.

The assassin didn't answer, not exactly sure what she thought or what she'd seen. But her heart was racing, her dread growing.

 _No room for error._

She reached up to the comm piece in her ear, her voice steady despite her pounding heart.

Because she also couldn't see their three teammates in the feed.

"Clint. Come in, Clint..."

* * *

Scott stared down at the photograph he always kept on him, having to squint a little in the limited light of passing streetlamps. Though he didn't need light. It was an image he'd committed to memory.

Wanda glanced over at him curiously from where she was sitting next to him in the backseat of Clint's car as he silently drove, leaning over a little to try and see what he was holding. "May I?" she asked.

The ex-con looked up at her, surprised, before he nodded. "Yeah, sure. Here."

"Thanks." Wanda carefully took the photograph, noticing the worn crease marks from the many times it'd been folded. She brought it closer to see better, a small smile forming on her face when she saw the little girl with long, light brown hair holding a rather ugly stuffed rabbit grinning back at the camera. A couple of her baby teeth were missing.

"She's beautiful. Is she your daughter? She has your face. Your smile."

Scott chuckled with a smile, taking the picture back from her when she offered it. "Thank you. Yeah, that's Cassie," he told her. "That was taken when I crashed her eighth birthday party. I hadn't been out of prison long, I didn't have much money since I'd just lost my job at Baskin Robbins, and that… that was all I could give my little girl for her birthday. I hadn't seen her in three years, and that was the best I could do. I hated it. But for whatever reason, she loves that thing. Honestly, I think she was just happy to see me, and that's it. But, uh… she gave me this picture after taking it from her mom, my ex-wife, after I stopped this crazy guy from getting her."

Wanda's gaze faltered. "And now…"

"Now, I'm a criminal on the run." Scott sighed as he carefully folded the photograph and tucked it into his suit. "Who knows when I'll see my peanut again? If ever. Her mom and her guy may not even want me to see her after this. They're kind and understanding people, but… well, he's a cop, and this isn't a good look. If you know what I mean."

Not knowing what to say since she didn't know what the right thing would be, Wanda reached over and set her hand on top of his. The ex-con never should have joined them on the run, as Clint shouldn't have. They both had families and people they loved that they were sacrificing the chance to ever see again by being with them. They didn't deserve that. They'd only been in this position in the first place because they had been willing to help Steve Rogers when he'd asked them to.

Scott glanced back up at her and gave her a weak smile in return. "Thanks, kiddo."

They only drove for a few more minutes before Clint switched off the headlights, bringing the car to a slow standstill in an empty gravel parking lot. The warehouse- a tall, two-story building with colorful graffiti and some shattered windows- loomed before them, dark and lifeless.

"All right, we're here," the archer muttered, taking the keys out of the ignition. "I know it's just recon to make sure we didn't miss anything the last time, but be on your guard, anyway. It wouldn't surprise me if a nasty thing or two was left behind in Hydra's rush to escape."

"Wonderful," Scott said, trying to keep his tone light as he leaned over to grab his helmet resting on the floor by his feet. "This place looks _exactly_ like I would have pictured a shady organization to be hiding out in. Talk about creepy."

Wanda hesitated for a brief moment, taking a deep breath to ensure that the energy that ran through her veins was under control before she stepped out of the car. Scott followed her, his helmet under his arm.

But Clint lingered behind, holding the untraceable flip phone in his palm. It felt heavy. He sighed, his brow furrowing. It was just a recon mission, he reminded himself. He'd called Laura before the three of them had left for the city after he'd touched base with Natasha about what had happened to Tony, to tell her he loved her and the kids. He always did when he'd be walking into danger, just in case he wouldn't get another chance. Now wasn't one of those times.

And yet… with Fennhoff…

He grit his teeth, pocketing the device when he saw that Scott and Wanda were patiently waiting for him before he stepped out of the car. He grabbed his retractable bow and quiver of arrows from the passenger seat, securing the latter across his dark tank top as he made his way toward his teammates.

He would call his wife later. After this mission if his mind still wasn't at ease. If he needed her voice, and the voices of his children, to come back down to earth and return to himself. And he would call her again when they tracked the mad doctor down, before they went in to get Tony and bring him home, because there were no guarantees with Fennhoff.

He left no room for error.

Scott arched an eyebrow when Clint approached him, eyeing the toned muscles in his arms. "Just recon?" he asked, nodding to his weapons.

Clint smirked. "Never hurts to be prepared," he answered. "Let's go. Carefully now."

The three began to cautiously cross the parking lot, senses on high alert as they made their way toward the door. Everything seemed quiet, but the archer knew well that it could either be a very good or a very bad sign.

"Come in, Nat. We're here," he muttered in just above a whisper for the benefit of who was listening through his comm piece as they approached the building. With a quick glance around, he reached out and tried the door. Just as he expected, it wouldn't budge. Most likely barricaded from the inside.

"I've got it." Wanda stepped closer, a thin tendril of scarlet energy wrapping around her slender finger before it shot out and slipped through the slim crack between the door and doorframe. A moment passed before it opened a few inches with a quiet groan.

Clint held a cautious hand up as he waited for a moment to see if there were any other noises he could pick up. Other than the few bumps and creaks that came along with an older building that hadn't been well cared for in quite some time, there was nothing.

"Good work." He then reached out and pulled it open the rest of the way, poking his head inside to see nothing but the shadows of the hallways waiting for them. He ushered Scott and Wanda in ahead of him, taking one more glance around the empty parking lot before he stepped inside himself, allowing the door to close behind them with a long _creak_.

The space was lit only by a few bare bulbs scattered about that must have still been powered by some sort of generator and the traces of moonlight that was filtering in through the many windows high up on the wall. Shattered glass, empty cans and bottles, food wrappers, cigarette butts, and rusty nails, among other miscellaneous litter, covered the floor.

"The place has certainly been well kept. It's got a… homey charm about it," Scott quipped with raised eyebrows. His nerves were evident. "I feel like it's gonna be like looking for a needle in a haystack to find anything of importance here…"

Wanda hid her smile as Clint sighed. "All right. We're looking for anything that seems out of place. Anything that wouldn't have been produced here or left by anyone who might have stayed here for a bit." He nudged an empty salt and vinegar chip bag with his boot for emphasis. "You both have your comms. If you need anything or if for some reason you need backup, call immediately."

The archer paused, glancing both ways down the hall. "Wanda, I want you to go that way," he said, pointing to the right. "It leads to the production room and assembly line, straight shot. That all right?"

"Got it." Wanda nodded once, a faint spark of crimson ringing her irises.

Clint smiled slightly before turning to their third teammate. "Lang, you go left," he added. "It leads down to a basement and storage area. I'll follow you for a bit, there's another hall that branches off this one that leads to the offices upstairs, which I'll take. Sound good?"

"Not really, but let's go!" Scott grinned, though it looked more like a grimace, as he flashed the other man a thumb's up.

"Okay, then, let's move out," Clint said. "Remember, stay on your guard and call if you see anything suspicious or need help." He watched as Wanda began to take the right path, heading for the production room, before looking back at Scott. "Let's get going."

"Right behind you," Scott muttered. He waited for Clint to start taking the left path before he followed after him, tightening his hold on his helmet as he eyed the patterned shadows on the wall and floors warily.

"So… do you really think we're going to find something here?" the ex-con asked to the archer's back. "That you guys could have missed something last time, or that something like that could still be here despite all the foot traffic?"

"It's possible," Clint answered quietly, taking calculated steps as to not disturb as much as possible as his sharp gaze scanned everything ahead of him. _Not likely_ , he added to himself, but he refrained from sharing it with the clearly anxious other man. "It was a little hectic last time we were here. There were still some Hydra agents waiting for us when we came, and we may not have been as thorough as we could have been in our efforts to apprehend them in all the chaos. Fennhoff is thorough, so it's imperative we are, too. If there's a chance that something was missed or left behind that could give us a clue as to where he and Tony could be now, it's worth a look. It's a place to start, anyway."

"Yeah. I get it," Scott muttered, his tone faltering slightly. "Though it would have been better if they picked a… I don't know… cheerier place for their operations."

At this, Clint allowed himself a small smile. "I know."

Soon, they reached the spot where two hallways met. Clint slowed to a stop, Scott following suit. "Okay, keep going straight, and you'll reach another hallway," the former instructed. "Right's a dead end. Left will bring you to the stairwell that will bring you down to the basement and storage area."

"Right. Gotcha." Scott chuckled. "You _do_ know it's the basement that serial killers and stuff usually hide in, right?"

Clint arched an eyebrow, glancing down at the helmet in the other man's arms. "You've got your suit," he said, unfazed. "You'll be fine. But you've also got your comm if you happen to come across any serial killers."

The ex-con gave him another thumb's up. "Of course I'll be fine," he replied. Vibrato, if Clint were honest. "I'll just, uh… I'll let you know if I find anything in the creepy basement."

"All right. Good luck." The archer watched as the other man slowly kept making his way down the hall while starting to whistle quietly to himself, shaking his head slightly before he started off down the adjacent passage. The hall became darker with each step, since even though there were still a few bulbs to guide his way, he was losing the windows. He spotted a couple dead vending machines up ahead to his right, more shattered glass surrounding them, and he knew the stairwell leading up to the second floor would be right across from them. He personally hadn't had a close look at the rooms up there the last time he'd been at the warehouse, and he was anxious to get a good look around.

But then, he stopped when a crackle came through his comm. He frowned as he tried to make out what the familiar disjointed voice was saying.

 _"Clint... in Clint…"_

"Nat?" he said, his eyes narrowing. "Nat, you're breaking up, I can't really hear you…"

Further down the hallway, Scott continued to quietly whistle a cheerful tune to himself in effort to try to forget where he was. He briefly paused in the middle of it when he saw the adjacent hallway the other man had mentioned up ahead in the dim lighting.

"Oh, yeah. Great idea to sign up for this, Lang… Volunteer to help explore the creepy abandoned warehouse because you can _fit into small spaces_ …" he grumbled, trudging over to the hallway that was waiting for him. "That's probably why you got the _basement_ in the scavenger hunt lottery… You can look in all the nooks and crannies down there… where all the bad dudes probably hid all the bodies… Wonderful. _Great_ idea, Lang… I'm _never_ doing this again… Not even if Captain America himself asked me…"

The ex-con stopped when he reached the hall, glancing to the left. There it was. The stairwell that led down to the basement, just where the archer said it would be. On the other side of the door, he could see through the narrow window that the single bulb there was flickering.

"Great! That's not a horror movie set up at all." Scott shook his head slightly before he chanced a glance to the right, even though Clint had said it was a dead end. And that's all it was. Nothing but shadows.

Scott rolled out his neck and shoulders. "All right, Lang. You got this. You are Ant-Man. You are an Avenger." He narrowed his eyes. "Sorta. You're _helping_ the Avengers. And-!" He stopped mid-sentence when a quiet shuffling came from the shadows of the dead end.

He wasn't alone.

"Okay… I don't wanna hurt you, but I'll do whatever I have to," he announced with confidence. Or so he tried. "You don't wanna mess with me. I swear to-!"

Then, something small and furry moved and jumped out of the shadows, and Scott stumbled back a couple steps with a panicked scream.

"Lang!" Clint's voice drifted over from further down the hall, concerned. He must not have made it upstairs yet. "You all right?"

Scott took a moment to catch his breath and will his racing heart to slow, glaring at the large calico cat that was blinking back at him innocently. " _Seriously_?!" he hissed at the feline. He then cleared his throat and looked in the direction of where the archer's voice had come from. "Yeah, all good! Just a, uh… just a stray!"

No response.

The ex-con let out a long breath as he shook his head, returning his attention to the cat. "Way to go," he muttered. "What are you doing, sneaking around here, anyway?"

The cat just hissed quietly back at him, causing Scott to jump slightly, before disappearing back into the shadows.

"Of course." Scott took one last deep breath before he turned to face the door that would bring him down to the basement and storage area. He tightened his hold on his helmet.

"All right. Show time."

The stairwell was cold when he stepped into it, so much so that he could see faint wisps of his breath in front of his face in the flickering light. He slowly descended the steps, his gloved hand brushing the icy metal railing. "There's no way it should be this cold in here, even if the heat were off…" he mumbled to himself as he continued toward another door he could now see that he knew had to lead into the basement itself. "Hey, Clint? Wanda? Is it cold by you guys? Like, see your breath cold?"

 _"No,"_ Wanda's slightly distorted voice answered. _"Not really."_

 _"There's a freezer down there,"_ Clint explained. _"For storage."_

Scott sighed. "Then someone must have left it open, because it's _freezing_ down here," he said as he approached the door. "About to go inside now."

 _"Let us know,"_ Clint replied.

"All right, Lang, let's go." The ex-con pushed open the door, a loud _creak_ echoing around the deserted space, and slowly stepped inside.

Sure, he'd entered empty places without permission before. Maybe taken a thing or two that didn't belong to him. He used to be a petty thief, after all. A cat burglar. But only from people who deserved it. Still, he'd always felt a little trepidation whenever he'd stepped into someone's property when he hadn't been invited, never knowing if there was some extra security snare he hadn't considered, or if the owner had gotten a dog recently, or they forgot something and returned home to get it unexpectedly. There had always been that risk.

But _this_? This was the first time he'd ever felt like he _shouldn't_ be there. He didn't know what it was, but _something_ was telling him to get the hell out of there while he still had the chance. Which was weird, since this building hadn't belonged to anyone in particular for quite some time. It must have been the ghosts of Hydra that still lingered within the walls that were fueling his overactive imagination.

Yeah, that was more than likely it.

Still, Scott lingered in the doorway for a minute longer than necessary, his gaze sweeping the room. The basement wasn't overly larger, really. Mainly filled with piles of cardboard boxes, either assembled or flat, scattered around the floor which had probably been used for shipping and distribution purposes. Other miscellaneous tools and work items and promotional fliers were also found among the boxes, as well as more litter like had been found by the entrance. He shook his head slightly in disapproval. Though it was hard to see everything because there was only a single bare bulb hanging from the center of the room, casting the corners in heavy shadow. Adjacent to the doorway was another metal door, and through what he could see of the narrow window, that was the freezer.

It was open a crack.

"Okay… weird." He then set his helmet on a low table next to the door that had a rolling chair with it before he turned his attention back to the room before him. "All right, so… anything out of place or suspicious. Shouldn't be too hard… Freezer last, though. Don't like that…"

Scott began toward the center of the basement where the light was best, starting to go through the boxes there. He wasn't too surprised to see that so far, they were empty. There most likely wasn't going to be anything down here, he realized. He didn't know much about Hydra, but he did know that they weren't stupid. And this Fennhoff guy sounded especially criminally methodical. Just his luck he'd be the first one he'd have to deal with…

Though if there were going to be any metaphorical bodies in the basement, they were gonna be in the freezer.

It was when he started going through a couple more of the boxes to avoid looking in said creepy freezer when he felt it. His arms were tired and his legs were shaking a bit, like his muscles were getting weaker. Which was weird, since he hadn't exerted that much energy. He blinked a few times when he felt a bit lightheaded as his vision danced in front of him. He took a step back, taking a couple deep breaths and leaning forward to rest on his knees as he tried to regain himself. Maybe there wasn't anything malicious down here, but it was possible there was something else, possibly something that was left too long that he was having an adverse reaction to…

Yeah, that was possible.

Regardless, Scott reached for the comm in his ear. "Hey, guys… I'm feeling a little weird…"

 _"Weird how?"_ Clint's response was immediate.

"I dunno, man… lightheaded, weak…" The ex-con coughed into the crook of his arm as he looked around again. There seemed to be a fine mist settling around the room. "Maybe there's a… a gas leak…?"

 _"Hold tight. I'll bet here soon,"_ the archer assured him.

"No, no, I'll be fi…" But Scott trailed off when he realized that it wasn't a gas leak. Whatever mist was filtering into the room was coming in through the vents.

 _Something was wrong._

"Okay… I need to get out of here…" He stumbled back a few steps, falling to the hard floor when he tripped over another cardboard box he hadn't seen behind him. He winded as the air left his lungs when he landed on his back, muttering a couple choice curses under his breath as he pushed himself up on one arm. His gaze landed on the box he'd bumped into, seeing it had tipped over with his momentum. He was about to push himself to his feet and get out as quickly as he could, but he paused when he saw there was something in the box, and his breath caught in his chest when he recognized the long, ripped ears and the ratted gray fur of the stuffed rabbit immediately.

It was the last minute gift he'd been able to scrounge up that he'd given Cassie for her eighth birthday.

His mind nearly crashed to a halt.

 _How the hell had_ that _gotten there…?_

"Daddy?"

The ex-con's heart nearly stopped when he heard the high-pitched voice that he loved more than any other in the world not too far away, seemingly from behind a pile of boxes, though the worst part was the fear in it.

"P-peanut…?" Scott scrambled to his feet, nearly falling over again in his haste to find her and his lack of balance. His movements were sluggish, but he pushed forward toward that voice. He had to get to her… She needed him… "Cassie!"

"Daddy!"

"Cassie!" Scott stumbled into one of the piles of boxes he hadn't gotten to yet, his jerky steps unable to avoid it, as he dropped hard to a knee. Gritting his teeth, he shoved the rest of the boxes aside in his desperation to find his little girl. "Peanut, where are you?"

"Daddy! I'm scared…"

His heart raced as he frantically looked around the darkened basement, not seeing any sign of her. His voice broke as he called out her name yet again. He had to…

Wait. Hadn't Clint and Cap said something about a hallucinogenic gas that this Fennhoff guy used…? This wasn't real… Cassie _couldn't_ be here… She had no reason to be in this abandoned warehouse, alone, in the middle of the night. He couldn't find her because she _wasn't_ there. None of this was real. It was the gas that was causing him to imagine that he was hearing her…

His breath quickened. But _that_ meant that _Fennhoff_ could have been there, messing with them… even though he wasn't supposed to be there… He had to warn the others.

But as Scott reached for the comm piece in his ear, he paused and closed his eyes tightly when a pressure began to build up behind them. He covered his head with his hands, a quiet whimper breaking through his lips. He thought he could hear indistinct voices crackling through his earpiece, but he couldn't make out what they were saying.

"Daddy!"

 _Not real… not real…_

But her voice tugged at his heart anyway, and the ex-con's eyes betrayed him as they flew open despite his wishes. He stopped breathing when he saw he was no longer crouched on the cold floor of the creepy basement of an old energy drink warehouse. Instead, he appeared to be in a warmly lit bedroom- one with pink wallpaper and fluffy stuffed animals galore.

A little girl's room.

 _Cassie's room._

It wasn't possible… _none of this was possible…_

Somewhere in the distance… the house next door, maybe… _no, somewhere else in the warehouse_ , he reminded himself… an anguished scream rang out as the foundations of the house… _no, the warehouse,_ he had to remember… shook slightly, causing him to nearly lose his balance. The couple lamps around the room… _no, the bare bulb in the basement_ , he had to get it right and not play into it… flickered, causing shadows to dance around him. With each short burst of light, he could faintly see the cold walls and cardboard boxes of the warehouse. It was disorienting.

But that scream, that cry of despair, of pain… it sounded hauntingly familiar…

"Wanda!" Scott grit his teeth as their younger companion's scream broke through his ear piece, crackling loudly. "Clint!" he yelled, hoping the archer could hear him. "Clint, I'm fine! Get to Wanda!" She sounded like she was in a much worse position than he was, and he hoped the other man could reach her faster.

 _"On it."_ While Clint's voice was steady, there was something else there. He sounded unsettled, which frankly freaked him out.

But not as much as knowing that Fennhoff had been lying in wait for them.

Then, he froze when he heard a quiet _creak_ over the chaos in his comm from off to his right. He slowly looked over, seeing Cassie's closet door… _no, the freezer door_.. had opened a bit further, and heavy footsteps, like someone wearing boots, hurried across the basement and down the stairs to the living room… _no, up the stairs to the main level of the warehouse_ … _toward Wanda and Clint…_

"Guys! There's someone else in here!" he shouted. He cursed heatedly when he got no response, unsure if either of them had heard him.

The door… he had to get to the door…

And his _helmet_. His heart jolted when he remembered he'd brought that with him. Maybe it could help to filter out the gas and help him to get his head on straight to help the others.

The only problem was, he had no idea where he'd set it when he'd entered Cassie's room.

The ex-con let out a frustrated sound. No, he _wasn't_ in his daughter's bedroom. He was in an old energy drink warehouse in the freezing basement… and he'd set his helmet on a table near the front door when he'd walked in.

Scott pushed himself to his feet, his left knee that had slammed into the hard floor pounding a little. He turned around, facing the bedroom door that led out to the second story landing. He shook his head a little and squinted, sometimes able to see the door of the basement that led out to the cold stairwell as the lights continued to flicker. And his helmet, sitting on the table right where he'd thought it'd be. He held his hands out in front of him, limping forward carefully as he made his way toward it.

But he paused briefly when he saw that bars had appeared in the doorway. Cold, unforgiving, metal bars. Cassie's room had become a prison cell… He was trapped…

 _No… no possible… not possible…_

"Daddy!"

The ex-con set his jaw as he did his best to ignore the panicked voice. It wasn't real… He forced himself to take a few more steps forward. Cassie wasn't there with him. He just had to keep looking straight ahead, one foot in front of the other, and…

"Daddy! Help me, please!"

His heart betrayed him. The fear in his daughter's voice… real or not… caused him to stop and quickly turn back around, looking everywhere for the little girl. "Cassie!" he called. "Where are you?"

No… he couldn't play into his hallucinations…

 _But what if…?_

"Over here, Daddy!" Cassie sounded on the verge of frantic. "I'm scared… I don't know what's happening…"

"I'm coming, Peanut! It's okay!" Scott stumbled forward, pushing his way through a couple more piles of toys on the floor as he tried to find where her voice was coming from. "Cassie!"

"Daddy!"

 _There_. He finally caught sight of her, her face pale and her eyes wide as she peeked out at him from inside her closet. Her dark hair was held back by a pink ribbon, revealing her pale face. Her fingers were gripping the door so tightly they were turning white, and his heard sped up when he saw the pure fear in her features.

"Cassie!" Scott tripped in his haste to get to her, wincing when her fuzzy carpet was harder than he'd expected. He pushed himself up on his arms to look back at her. She was trembling. "Cassie, what's wrong?"

Instead of answering, she looked down at something that was secured around her waist. His breath caught in his chest when he recognized the shining circular device. _A regulator_? He searched for his on his own suit, but he couldn't seem to find it…

"Peanut, how did you get that?" he asked, trying to keep his tone level as he started to push himself to his feet. "You know that isn't a toy."

Cassie looked back up at him, tears in her eyes. "He gave it to me… He said I could be just like you…"

He? "Who gave it to you?" A cold chill ran down the ex-con's spine. _The man who'd left her room…?_ He hadn't gotten a good look at him… hadn't even seen if he _was_ as man… but he didn't think he'd recognized them…

 _Could it have been_ Cross _again? But how…?_

A fainter cry of pain came from the comm in his ear, causing him to briefly hesitate. _Clint_ …?

But Cassie didn't answer. Instead, she looked back down at the device. "I think something's wrong with it…" she mumbled.

Scott froze. Something Hank Pym had told him, seeming so long ago now, came back to him then. A warning that if the regulator got damaged… he'd end up in subatomic space… trapped there forever… lost without being able to find a way back…

Some quick thinking on his part had allowed him to come back from the quantum realm. But Hank's wife, Janet, who had shrunk that small nearly thirty years before, hadn't… She'd remained lost in the quantum realm…

He had to get that regulator off of Cassie.

"What do you mean something's wrong with it?" he pressed anxiously, no longer caring how his voice shook. "Cassie-!"

But he paused when the regulator began to spark, causing the little girl to shriek. "Daddy!"

"Cassie!" Scott got to his feet and stumbled forward. "Look at me… Peanut, look at me!"

She did as she was told, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I'm going to get it off, okay?" he assured her. "I promise. Let me take a look at it."

But Cassie wasn't calmed. "Daddy, help me! Get it off! Take it off! Please, Da-!"

Then, the regulator started to rapidly blink as more sparks emitted from it. Cassie screamed, and in the next moment, she quickly shrank in size until she disappeared.

The ex-con came to an abrupt halt, his heart stopping as his body ran cold. No… she couldn't be…

" _Cassie_!"

Scott made it to the closet, pushing on the door that was heavier than he expected as he finally got it all the way open with a loud _creak_. Cold air rushed at him. But he took cautious steps forward anyway, finding he carpeted floor to be a little slick as he nearly fell, even though he knew, deep down, that she wasn't there anymore…

The damage had been done. She'd gone too small…

 _No_. There had to be a way to find her, to bring her back from that place… _There had to be_.

" _Cassie_! Oh, God… No, no, no… Cassie!" Scott screamed, tears rushing to his eyes as he dropped to his knees, frantically scratching at the carpeted floor… which felt icy beneath his gloved fingers… to try to find any trace of his daughter. Nothing. "Come back! Stay with me! Oh, God no, Cassie! Cassie!"

But it was no use. He couldn't feel her, he couldn't hear her…

She was gone.

" _Cassie_!"

* * *

The production room was quiet as Wanda made her way toward it. She stepped through the door that led into the room that overlooked the assembly line, filled with computer monitors that had long since not been in use. She approached the desks to check all the drawers and compartments to see if, by chance, anything had been left behind. Empty. Nothing. She the approached the control panel, trying a few buttons and switches to see if she could get into any of the computer systems. Nothing responded to her touch. Everything had been shut down. Not that she thought there would be anything to be found there, anyway. Fennhoff was much too smart to not wipe everything.

Wanda then wandered over to the wide window, looking down at the assembly line below her. All of the machines were still and silent, the skeletal system that had once supported the warehouse in its use. Now it felt like a graveyard. She was grateful for Clint and Scott's quiet voices in her ear, even with the latter's freak out over a cat.

Hesitating only briefly, Wanda crossed the small room and pushed open the door that led to the larger space. There was a chill, she noticed, as she descended the metal staircase, her steps echoing loudly around her. She heard the ex-con ask if it was unusually cold, his voice a bit distorted now.

"No. Not really," she muttered in answer as she came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. She wandered to the right, not really knowing where to start looking as she caught sight of a towering metal door, opened about a quarter of the way. She bent over a little to look under it, seeing it was a spacious garage and loading bay area where shipments of the energy drinks were prepared to be sent off. It would be easy enough to fit under it- she could even lift it further if she wanted to- but she'd save that for after she scoped out the rest of the room.

Wanda lightly trailed her slender fingers over the still conveyer belt on the assembly line next to her as she slowly walked across the vast room, each step echoing around the empty, high-ceilinged space. She was alone, no one had used this warehouse for anything in quite some time aside from squatters, but she still just couldn't shake the feeling that there was someone else in this room with her, just beyond the corner of her eye wherever she looked. That someone was haunting her every step. That someone was watching her every move…

 _Focus_. She had to stay focused. It was just the closest she'd been to the mad doctor's lingering presence than she had in a long time. And it still managed to get under her skin and chill her very bones.

Maybe she should have listened to Vision and stayed behind. This was a place that wasn't meant for her. But she couldn't question that now. She was there, and she had a job she was expected to do. After all, she was familiar with the inner workings of Hydra. If anyone were able to pick up on anything that they had left behind in their haste to escape, it should be her.

Scott's voice crackled through her comm again, even more distorted than it had been before, though louder than when he had just been muttering to himself to calm himself down.

 _"Hey, guys… I'm feeling a little weird…"_

 _"Weird how?"_

Wanda paused, frowning as she listened to the ex-con describe his symptoms- lightheadedness and weakness- and question if it could be a gas leak. "Are you all right?" she asked, just as Clint said he'd come to get him, his voice fading in and out. But she didn't get a response as Scott instead tried to say he was fine until his voice trailed off. She wondered for a moment if he'd even heard her before concern about what had made him stop speaking took its place. Was her ear piece having issues, or was there something else to be concerned about…?

Either way, she couldn't ignore the dread pooling in her stomach.

"Scott…? What's wrong?"

Nothing.

It was then that Wanda noticed that her hands were shaking. She squeezed them into tight fists in effort to stop them, but the sensation traveled up her arms until her whole body was beginning to tremble. The muscles in her legs felt weak as she took a couple steps forward, and she reached out and held onto the assembly line to keep from falling. She took a few deep, shaking breaths to try to compose herself and clear her head, blinking a few times when her vision began to tilt. Maybe there _was_ a gas leak somewhere in the warehouse after all…

"Guys…? Can you hear me…?" She detested how weak her voice sounded.

 _"Wanda?"_ Clint. _"You're barely coming in… What's wrong?"_

The archer's voice was even more distorted than it had been before. Wanda swallowed hard before attempting to answer. "I'm feeling weird, too…" she managed.

She only received static and indiscernible words in return, and she cursed under her breath. He probably hadn't even heard her.

But then, another voice managed to make it through the white noise of her comm. Scott. A panicked yell. A name.

 _Cassie_.

His daughter…?

Wanda's brow furrowed. Why would _she_ be there…?

Then, she gasped when she heard heavy footsteps on the metallic stairs that led down to the assembly line, and she quickly whirled around with wide eyes, nearly losing her balance. No one was there.

But she did see the door at the top finish closing.

 _Someone else was in there with them._

Her heart began to race, heat spreading through her fingers. She took a deep breath and held it, attempting to keep her powers under control. She tilted her head back, about to start counting down from ten, but she froze when she noticed a fine, white mist was seeping in through the vents.

That had to be what was causing her symptoms.

Scarlet energy began to wind around her hands as she prepared to try and dispel whatever gas it was. But her heart stopped as all breath left her body when a quiet, familiar, kind voice fell on her ears.

"Hello, my dear."

 _That voice…_ almost grandfatherly, meant to disarm. But still one that would sometimes sneak its way into her darkest nightmares.

"No…" Wanda shook her head, attempting to clear it of that voice, as she squeezed her eyes shut. Her breathing quickened as the crimson light around her hands intensified. "No… no, you're not supposed to be here…"

She thought she could make out Clint's worried voice in her ear, but it was hard to tell over all the crackling in her comm.

But _his_ voice came in stronger.

"Ah, but it was _you_ who strayed, my dear. Not I."

"No…" As much as she didn't want to see that face that was imprinted in her mind's eye, Wanda forced her eyes to open so she could prove to herself that she was imagining all of this. The mist she'd seen must have been the doctor's hallucinogenic gas- meaning _someone_ was really in there with them- and she knew it was too late to try to dispel it. It was already in her system. And that's all his voice was. In her head. It had always been his greatest weapon.

But there he was. Not five feet in front of her. Leaning on a cane for support. Smiling at her. He looked no different from when she had last seen him in Sokovia.

"It is good to have you back, my dear," Fennhoff murmured. His voice was almost kind. Almost.

Wanda's eyes narrowed. "I am _not_ back," she hissed. "I _never_ will be back."

Fennhoff tsked quietly, taking a couple slow steps forward. He seemed undeterred when she stood on the offensive, her energy ready to strike. "That is what he said, also."

She briefly hesitated. _He_? "Who…?" she asked quietly, not certain if she really wanted to know.

At this, the doctor stopped. His smiled broadened. "Why, your dear brother, of course," he answered brightly. "I knew as soon as we had him back in the fold, you would be soon to follow."

 _Pietro_? Wanda's heart stopped. There was no way… It was impossible… She shook her head as her breath hitched, closing her eyes tightly. "No… there's no way… he's _dead_ …"

Fennhoff inclined his head. A menacing gleam appeared in his eye. "Are you certain about that, dear?"

Her legs nearly gave out beneath her as her body trembled. A couple tears escaped from her eyes as energy crackled around her hands. Overhead, the lights flickered in time to its building pulse. "No… he can't be…" Her sentence trailed off as she shook her head again. "It's a trick. Pietro's _dead_ … I'd _know_ if he were alive. I would _feel_ it… feel _him_ … And I _can't_ … I haven't since…"

But the doctor just chuckled. He started to advance toward her again. "What if he didn't _want_ you to know he was alive?" he posed.

Wanda's breath caught. "He… he wouldn't do that…" But even to her, the protest sounded weak.

"Would he not?" Fennhoff continued. "What if he did not want you to know what he's been involved in since you abandoned him?"

Her blood ran cold. "I didn't _abandon_ Pietro," she spat. "He _died_ in Sokovia. _I felt it_. He-!"

"He resents you for that, you know." The doctor's voice was cold, cruel, as he drew nearer to her. The tap of his cane echoed loudly around the vast space, but it was something she could hardly hear over her pounding heart. "You weren't there when he needed you to be… I was."

"Stop it!" Wanda sank to her knees, her shoulders shaking as a quiet sob escaped from her. "Stop lying! Pietro wouldn't join you… He would die first… As would I."

Fennhoff chuckled, the sound full of pity, as he stopped directly in front of her. "He didn't have much of a choice. We had to force his hand," he murmured. He reached a wrinkled hand out toward her. "Now, come back with me, my dear."

" _No_!" An anguished scream ripped from Wanda's throat. " _You liar_!" She threw her hands out in front of her, the scarlet light pulsing around them shooting out at the doctor. The room around her seemed to shake with the intensity of the blast, and she curled in on herself with another scream as broken glass rained down around her from the ceiling. The overhead lights above her had shattered from the force of the crackling energy in her blood.

For a long moment, she remained kneeling on the hard floor among the shards in a circle of darkness. Her body shook with sobs as another pained cry escaped from her, tears streaming down her face. It was exactly as she and Vision had feared. Fennhoff wanted her back. She didn't know for what, but it couldn't have been good. What plan could he possibly have had for _her_? He already had Pietro…

The thought of her twin brought her racing thoughts to an abrupt halt. The doctor had to have been lying, there was no other possibility. Pietro was dead. She had felt his heart stop, she had felt his life leave his body. It had taken her a long time to accept that reality, that she would have to live the rest of her days with only half of her soul intact. But finding whatever it was that she had with Vision, she felt as though she finally had come to accept it. She finally felt as though she could move on and live without Pietro.

But yet, even then, she could have sworn she felt a second, fainter heart beating against her own. Offering comfort. Her ghost pain, her phantom limb…

The concerned but distorted voices of Clint and Scott in her ear piece brought her back down to earth. She was surprised that burst of energy hadn't short-circuited it. Wanda took a deep, shaking breath, her tears slowing, as she straightened up and opened her eyes. The lights that remined in the room flickered around her. The room was empty, aside from her. There was no sign that Fennhoff had even been there.

Of course there wasn't. Because he hadn't been there.

She let out a quiet, nervous chuckle, inwardly cursing herself. Her confrontation with the doctor, his lies about her brother… It had all been in her head. And she had played right into the illusion. The hallucinogenic gas Fennhoff had always used had settled deep in her system. She had to get out of there. She had to warn the others that someone else was in the warehouse with them, that someone had unleased that gas…

 _"Wanda… can you… me?"_

"Y-yes," she murmured in response to the archer's concerned voice. She pushed herself to her feet, finding that her legs still shook. "But you're breaking up…"

 _"Are… all right?"_

Was she? She was shaken, feeling weak. But she was physically unharmed. "Yes," Wanda answered. "I'm fine now… But listen, Clint. I-!"

She was stopped when Scott's voice broke through then, though his frantic words weren't directed at them. He was anxiously calling out for his daughter. It was with a sinking feeling she realized the ex-con must have been exposed to the hallucinogenic, too. She set her jaw.

It had been an ambush from the start.

"Listen, Clint… If you can hear me, someone else is in here with us. They're working with Fennhoff. They're using the hallucinogenic gas. We have to get out of here now!"

Static. Wanda sighed with frustration. But before she could say or do anything else, Clint's voice managed to break through.

 _"Stay… Wanda… coming to you…"_

But then, her blood ran cold when she heard his cry of pain. "Clint? Clint!"

No answer. All she could hear over distortion in her comm was Scott still crying Cassie's name.

Something was really wrong.

"Clint!"

She couldn't stay and wait. She had to go find the archer and ex-con and get them out.

Wanda turned to make her way back to the metallic staircase that would take her away from the assembly line, but she hesitated when she could no longer find them. She quickly looked around her, but as the lights continued to flicker, she saw that the room around her was shifting. In some moments, it was the abandoned production room while in others, it was a much smaller space with cold and unforgiving concrete walls, a metallic door with a small barred window toward the top across from her. A thin cot with a single pillow and ragged blanket was behind her as a single bare bulb flickered overhead.

Her heart nearly stopped. It was her containment room in Strucker's base in Sokovia…

No… she couldn't be back there… it was the gas… just the gas…

 _… it was just the gas…_

"Vis… help me…" she whispered, her breath shaking. Would he hear her? Would he feel that she was in trouble? Like Pietro always had?

"Please…"

But then, Wanda shook her head, attempting to clear it. She wasn't trapped there, not again. It was just Fennhoff's tricks, playing with her mind. Getting to her. She _had_ to remember that none of this was real. Mind manipulation was her thing; she could beat this. She just had to remain focused to be able to see clearly. She was still in the warehouse. The stairs that would let her escape were somewhere in front of her. All she had to do was find them. She held her hands out before her, taking slow, cautious steps forward as she searched for her way out.

"Wanda…?"

She immediately stopped at the weak, quiet voice that pierced straight through her heart, closing her eyes against the tears that pricked them. _No… no real not real not real not…_

"… Wanda…"

Her breath shuddered as she slowly turned around to where the voice was coming from as though compelled, slowly opening her eyes. A broken sob escaped through her lips before she covered her mouth as a couple tears trailed down her cheeks when she saw the other teen lying on the cot. His eyes were tired as he looked back at her, his face pale beneath the dark stubble that lined his chin. His nearly all white hair was a mess around his face. A brief tremor ran through his thin frame, and she thought she could almost see his ribs through the material of his thin shirt.

It wasn't her containment room she had found herself in.

None of this was real… she had to keep telling herself that. But yet… there he was, not three feet away from her… so close she could almost touch him… after those few long years…

"… Pietro…" she breathed.

What could be confusion crossed Pietro's face. "What… what are you… doing here…?" It must have been her mind playing tricks on her that made her hear the underlying accusation.

"Oh, Pietro…" Wanda took a couple steps closer, but she stopped when he flinched away from her. He had never done that before. "What… what's wrong?"

Her twin shook his head, his breathing harsh, as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. "No… stay back…"

Wanda frowned. _All in her head… it was all in her head…_ But her heart still wavered. Fear was something she had never seen on his face before. Not when he looked at her…

"It's me, Pietro…" Her voice shook with every word. "It's Wanda… Don't you recognize me…?"

When she took another step forward, Pietro scooted back against the wall. "Stop… you… you think I don't know… what you've _done_ …?"

A pang of sorrow gripped her heart with icy fingers as Fennhoff's words echoed through her mind.

 _"He resents you for that, you know…"_

Tears lined her eyes and threatened to fall. "Pietro… I didn't leave you," she murmured. "I would never leave you… I didn't know…"

Her sentence trailed off when a dark look passed over her brother's face as his eyes narrowed. She suddenly felt cold. Before he'd died, he'd never raised his voice at her or been angry with her… They'd had too much of an understanding, had been through too much, for that.

This look scared her.

 _… It's not real… none of this is real…_

 _… It_ can't _be real…_

 _… Pietro_ wouldn't _…_

Wanda reached a trembling hand out toward him. "Pietro, please… let me explain…"

"Don't touch me!" Pietro's sudden sharp voice caused her to yank her hand back as though she'd been burned. "I don't need you hurting me again… Not after what you've done…"

 _Again_? Her throat felt like it was closing up as a couple tears fell from her eyes. Of course… back when they had first been gaining their abilities. She hadn't been able to control the newfound energy running through her body, not completely. Pietro had gotten too close to try to calm her down…

She shut her eyes. His scream of pain still sometimes haunted her. He had never blamed her, even though she had done plenty of that herself as she tore herself apart, and even though he had healed quickly without a scratch, it had been an invisible scar she had always been able to see on him since it had been caused by her hand.

Scarlet energy flared from her hands, winding up her arms. _No_. She was in control now… She wouldn't hurt him again, he had to see that… _She was in control_ …

"You've killed people, Wanda… You've killed _children_." Each word her twin spoke cut deeper and deeper. Because they were true. The death and devastation she had inadvertently caused in Lagos… the reason that people, her own _brother_ , feared and despised her… refused to leave her. It was a guilt she knew she'd bear for the rest of her life.

"At least I died helping to protect a child," Pietro continued fiercely. Cruelly. "But you? You've become exactly what they were trying to turn us into."

Her breath hitched. "Please… no… don't say it…"

Pietro's eyes narrowed as more darkness marred his face. "You're a monster."

 _A monster_. That had been how she'd seen herself, ever since her creation. A monster, an abnormality, one that people were right to fear. But hearing Pietro say it… to hear he viewed her that way, too… IT had been foolish to hope and believe that she was becoming something else when the Avengers had offered her a home. She was dangerous. She didn't know how to be anything else. She was nothing more than a weapon of mass destruction. A killer. A monster.

Wanda's eyes slowly fluttered open, noticing that sparks of energy were crackling all round her body now. But a sob escaped from her when she saw that Pietro was now lying completely still on the cot, crimson bleeding through his blue shirt and his empty eyes staring straight through here. Even though they were unseeing, there was still an accusation there.

His voice resonated in her mind. _"You even killed me…"_

Her fault… This was _all her fault_ …

She had lost him a second time. Because of her.

" _Pietro_!"

Wanda dropped to her knees beside the cot as the agonized cry broke through her lips, sobs shaking her slender frame. She studied his wan, blank face, and his empty eyes, unable to bring herself to touch him. Her heart felt like it had stopped beating along with his, her lungs struggled to take another breath…

Scarlet energy flew out in all directions from her as she screamed as loudly as she could, hardly noticing or caring that the bulb above her head shattered and cast the small containment room into darkness while the base's very foundation trembled beneath her. Her comm fizzled before dying, the metallic pieces falling out of her ear. The thought that more bursts like this of her power could collapse the place briefly crossed her mind, but it didn't matter.

Pietro was dead. She was dead. And the people who remained within these walls were the monsters that had turned her into one of their own.

 _A monster_.

Sure. She could be the monster they wanted her to be.

And they would only live a short time to regret it.

"… Wa-Wanda…"

The soft voice broke through the rage and sorrow and crackling energy. It was weak, she was surprised she'd even been able to hear it over all the noise in her soul, but she would know it anywhere. The pressure in her chest eased, allowing her to be able to take another breath. A warmth formed next to her heart, making another beat possible. Her body still trembled with the power she was unleashing, but a feeling of calm, of peace, she hadn't felt since that day in Sokovia fell over her, wrapping around her securely. Her fingers slowly stopped shaking, but the energy remained.

"… Wanda… please… stop this now…"

She took a deep, shuddering breath as a couple more tears escaped from her eyes. "… P-Pietro…?" she gasped out. She didn't want to get her hopes up after he'd called her what she'd always called herself, but there was kindness in his voice, not hate. She foolishly clung to it.

A few flickers of images quickly flashed through her mind.

 _Pietro was sitting on the hard stone floor in the corner of a small, dim, cold room, shivering in the plain gray shirt that was too big for him and gray pants…_

 _A chain and shackle was around his ankle, some sort of metallic collar around his neck…_

 _His frame had always been thin, but he was on the verge of emaciated, his face pale with dark shadows under his exhausted, pained eyes…_

 _He gasped quietly for breath, the sound shuddering as he released whatever air he could get…_

 _His face and hands and arms were marred with bruises and scars…_

"… Wanda…"

She gasped as the warehouse production room swam back into focus, most of the flickering lights now dark. She was lying curled up on the cold floor, her breathing ragged and her body weak. More tears rushed to her eyes when she attempted to make sense of what she'd just seen. It had looked a little different, but she was pretty sure it had been Strucker's base when they'd been kept there… when they'd had the experiments run on them… The gas was still messing with her… She had to get out… but she didn't feel like she could move with the crimson still crackling around her.

 _Not real not real not real not real not real…_

But yet… it was as though her brother's memory was trying to protect her from the worst of the hallucinogenic's effects… Even though he was no longer with her, he was still somehow looking out for her…

"… Wanda… please…"

Her eyes slowly drifted closed. If she tried, she could almost feel his heart beating against hers, in time with hers. Just like it had always used to. She could almost feel his arms around her, sheltering her. She could almost feel his head resting lightly against hers, comforting her…

If only it were real. If only he were alive…

"Yes, Pietro… I hear you," she whispered. She didn't care that this was all a hallucination induced by Fennhoff. She'd play into it. This Pietro felt more like her brother than the last…

"… No, Wanda… You must not stay… you must leave… before it is too late… Wanda, please…"

 _Pietro flinched as the door to the small room opened…_

 _Rough hands grabbed him, unchaining him before pulling him to his feet and shoving him toward the door, causing him to stumble…_

 _He was shoved toward and strapped with a bit more force than necessary to a cold metal table, his breathing quick…_

 _Some sort of metal device encircled his head as a long, thin needle was inserted into the crook of his arm…_

 _Fear._

"… Wanda… I'm sorry…"

 _A cry of pain broke through Pietro's lips as he fought against his restraints… the very life being drained from him…_

And then nothing. Nothing but empty blackness. He was gone.

" _Pietro_!"

Wanda sat up with a scream, a faint pain coursing through her body. Her eyes snapped open as tears streamed down her cheeks as she quickly looked around her, seeing that the room around her was once again alternating from the abandoned warehouse to Strucker's base in Sokovia with each flicker of light.

She couldn't get the experiments they'd been forced to endure out of her mind…

 _None of this was real… it was in her head…_

 _All of this… the pain, the fear… felt much too real…_

She squinted at the hallucinogenic gas seeping into the room through the vents high above her head, the scarlet energy pulsing around her shaking frame in time with her racing heart. The foundation beneath her trembled.

A quiet laugh reached her ears, causing her blood to run cold.

 _That's right, you bastard… I'm the monster you made me into…_

She slowly turned to her right, her eyes narrowed with energy burning around her irises, to see that Fennhoff was watching her, a knowing smile on his face.

He reached a hand out to her.

 _You are not ready for me…_

The same energy ringing her eyes burst around her fingers.

And all she could see was crimson.

* * *

Tony's eyes were wide as he watched the dark-haired man… Scott, he believed his name was… stumbling around the basement on the security footage of the old television set. He appeared to be calling out for someone, but he couldn't hear who. He couldn't get a good angle to try to read his lips, either. But ever since the gas had been released into the room by someone he hadn't been able to see clearly, it was obvious he'd been frantically trying to find _someone_. The desperation in his movements unnerved him. He couldn't even imagine what he was seeing…

The feed then switched to Wanda in what appeared to be the production room, and the billionaire's breath hitched when he could clearly see the anguish and rage in her scream. Energy crackled around her body, causing some of the lights to flicker before shattering as the image darkened. His gaze faltered as he let out a shaky breath. He had some idea of past traumas that the gas she'd been exposed to could possibly drag up… and dread filled him when he realized she had the power to bring the place down if she were to get worked up enough.

"Please… stop this…" he murmured, raising his gaze to where Fennhoff was watching the feed with a small smile set into his aged features. "Please… no more…"

"Oh, Mr. Stark." The doctor tsked quietly with a brief shake of his head as he turned to look at his prisoner. "What happens with them now is out of my hands. You are familiar with what effects the hallucinogenic has. I cannot prevent them from experiencing what they fear the most. As you can see, it has already taken effect."

Tony swore with frustration under his breath, clenching his jaw as he turned back to the television. Dread pooled in his stomach as he watched Scott crawling toward another door in the basement while Wanda screamed again as more crimson energy radiated from her.

This was his fault… They had only been looking for him, and now…

He had to do something.

But he also knew there wasn't much he could do while trapped in his own hell…

Although… Fennhoff had made him an offer in exchange for…

Suddenly, the feed cut out as a black screen replaced the grainy images. Tony's heart nearly stopped as he reached a panicked hand out toward the television. "Wait, no… What the hell did you do?!"

But Fennhoff simply laughed. The billionaire glared back at him before something on the screen caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He quickly turned back to the television to see the feed had been replaced with one of Clint.

His blood ran cold. The archer was hurrying down a hallway toward what he thought looked like a stairwell, his bow in hand. "Please… no…"

A wide grin spread across the mad doctor's face. "Just relax and enjoy the show, Mr. Stark," he replied. "Things are just about to pick up."

Tony's heart pounded in his ears as he kept his gaze fixated on Clint, hardly daring to breathe. His friend was the one Fennhoff was after… he could still save him.

Couldn't he…?

He took a deep breath, clenching his fists while tears pricked his eyes as he prepared to say the words he'd been practicing in his head, the ones that he had always known he would rather give his own life than to say aloud and actually mean. But as he watched the archer cautiously look around him as he shouted anxiously into what must have been his comm, he knew he had no choice.

"Fennhoff."

"Hmm?" The doctor's tone was light, almost pleasant, in its curiosity.

Tony swore heatedly, clenching his teeth as he squeezed his eyes shut. He had to just do it…

 _Pepper… Rhodey… Peter… Steve… I'm sorry…_

A beat passed before he took a deep breath and raised his weary, defeated hazel gaze to the old man. "Okay," he said, managing to keep his voice steady. As much as he knew he was going to regret speaking the next words aloud, he was pleased for that small favor. "All right… You win."

Fennhoff inclined his head. What appeared to be delight flickered in his eyes. "Do I now?" he wondered. "How is that?"

The billionaire steeled himself, every muscle taut. He took a couple more quick, deep breaths. "Yes," he muttered, his tone just as tense. He stared his captor directly in the eye. "I… I've thought about your offer, and… I accept." He paused when the doctor's smile returned. There was something unsettling about it. He swallowed hard, preparing himself. "I'll join Hydra. I'll join you. But you have to let Clint get the others out. And you can't harm him."

For a moment, it appeared that Fennhoff was actually mulling over his words as he worked his bottom lip between his teeth, gazing at the television thoughtfully. He absently twirled the gold band around his finger. Tony forced himself to look away from its hypnotic pull.

But then, the doctor laughed, and his captive's heart sank. "I appreciate your most generous offer, Mr. Stark," he told him. "This is most welcome news. And I must say, it is a pleasure to hear you speak those words. Your father once made this offer, also."

"Wh… what?" Tony was only able to stare back at him in disbelief. _Howard_ had offered to join _Hydra_? That was impossible… He wouldn't believe that about his father… He _couldn't_ believe that… There was _no_ reason his father would have joined them… _none_ …

"It is astounding how one's core values and beliefs can change given the situation. Such as both you and Howard offering to join the very organization you both valiantly swore you would rather face death before joining." He paused, a malicious gleam appearing in his eyes. "But much like with your father, I am afraid I will have to decline."

Tony's breath left him as his heart nearly stopped in horror. "But… you… you said if I-!"

"Oh, I am fully aware of what I said, Mr. Stark." Fennhoff grinned, his enjoyment at his helplessness making Tony sick. "But I am afraid you are too late. That offer has passed. I would advise you to remember your words here for the next time an offer comes to you, for it will be the last one I will give you to freely join with me. Is that understood?"

However, the billionaire was unable to answer as he turned back to the television, his body trembling. His ragged breathing came quickly in time with his racing heart as he watched Clint cautiously continue toward the stairwell leading down to the first level, pausing a few steps down as he responded to something he heard through his comm.

 _Clint… I'm sorry… I tried…_

"Please, don't do this." Though even as the words left his mouth, Tony knew they were landing on deaf ears. But he felt compelled to do _something_ to help the archer… even though it would amount to nothing.

Fennhoff made a quiet sound of pity as he reached out and set a wrinkled, yet unexpectedly strong, hand on his shoulder. The billionaire wanted to flinch away, yet found that he couldn't. It was a gesture to keep him in place rather than to console.

 _How…?_

"Perhaps, Mr. Stark, you will make a better choice next time," the old man murmured. "Perhaps no more shall have to die."

Tony clenched his jaw tightly to force back a scathing retort, and he closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to form. His fists resting on his lap were shaking, itching to either smash the television screen or break his captor's face. Both were equally satisfying options.

But he felt trapped, unable to do either.

 _Clint… forgive me…_

"Ah!"

It was the doctor's sound of enjoyment, of excitement, that caused the billionaire's eyes to snap open, his stomach still churning. His eyes widened in fear when he saw the second figure striding down the darkened hallway, his heart thundering in his ears when he saw whoever… or _whatever_ … it was making their way straight toward Clint.

 _No…_

"Please…"

But Fennhoff only grinned, seeming not to even hear his near silent plea.

"Checkmate."

 **Author's Note** : Doesn't sound like anyone's in good shape... Though there may have been a couple clues in here as to important story points later on! Anyway, Clint's section was going to be at the end here, but I cut it for a couple reasons. One, the chapter was getting long, and two, what Clint sees while under the influence of the gas is crucial to the rest of the story. So I figured that his story here should be told in full, and it'll likely be its own chapter with the ramifications it'll have as we move forward. It's almost finished on my end, so it should be up soon! As always, thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thanks, guys! Until next time!


	21. Chapter 21- To Clip an Archer's Wings, 1

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Hey, guys! Thanks for your reviews, follows, and favorites, they mean a lot to me! Sorry for the bit of a wait. I ended up writing about three chapters at the same time here, lol. So the good news is, the next couple chapters shouldn't be that long in coming! That being said, the next two chapters are going to span Clint's backstory. **Important note**. While most of the details of Clint's life have been taken from the comics, **CoffeeRanger** and I have gone through and put a different sort of spin on them to fit into this Newton-verse, as well as to give a fresh take on it. So not all details are true to comic canon. What Clint sees via the gas, and some events of his backstory, tie very much into what Fennhoff has in mind for all of the Avengers in this story and some future plot points, and there are some crucial clues and details into the doctor's motivations. Also, a bit of a **trigger warning** , there's some description of (though nothing graphically shown) and reference to child abuse. Also, fun note, the subtitles of these couple chapters are inspired by lyrics from the song "Already Over" by Red, which really had a big influence in writing out this backstory. With all that said, here's part one!

 _Chapter 21- To Clip an Archer's Wings, Part 1: You're All I'm Reaching For_

Peter grunted as he was pulled further back into the alley, struggling against his attacker. He elbowed them hard in the jaw before managing to break away and turning to face them.

The man with dark hair, the thin goatee, the scar, the green bandanna… _Uncle Ben's murderer_ … stood facing him with a mocking smirk.

So. Finally one on one. Just like it was supposed to be. Because he hadn't been able to do anything the first time. The teen stood on the defensive. His first real test as an Avenger. Without his suit. He _had_ to rock this. He _had_ to if he wanted to be taken seriously by the rest of the team. He _had_ to if he wanted them to let him help find Tony…

 _You've got this, Peter. Focus!_

The man lunged for him. The web-slinger blocked the punch aimed at his face with his forearm, wincing with both surprised and pain, before he dodged a kick aimed for his knee. He spun and landed a hard kick of his own on the man's chest before he used the brick wall next to him to propel himself forward and connect with a solid knee to the side of his head.

Even though he knew it was impossible that he was fighting this man right now, each hit was releasing pent up grief… pent up rage… from when this very person had taken his uncle away from him. From when he'd only been able to watch it happen… This had been a long time coming.

But his eyes widened in fear when the dark-haired man seemed completely unfazed by the strikes. With his increased strength, with as much of it that he'd put into each one, his adversary should have at the very least been knocked out cold… not still standing there giving him that aggravating smirk…

Dread rushed through him. He'd gone toe to toe with Captain America… with the Winter Soldier… in Germany. He'd stopped their strikes, he'd made them stumble…

Was this man enhanced like _them_?

 _Was he even human?_

Though Peter quickly brushed away that thought. He was being ridiculous…

 _Wasn't he?_

The man chuckled, and a flash of gold in his hand drew the teen's attention. It was a watch. A Rolex, by the look of it. Good condition… except for a small crack in the clock face.

 _Tony's._

It was a pretty basic model, but he was certain of it. He'd seen it on his mentor's wrist on more than one occasion. He never used it to actually tell time, he had plenty of tech to do that for him. No, he'd kept it for sentimental purposes. It'd belonged to Howard Stark. The crack had been there when he'd taken it as his own, and he'd never gotten it repaired…

"Why do you have that?" he demanded. "That's not yours. Give it to me!" He hated how his voice cracked ever so slightly. His desperation to find and hold onto any piece of the billionaire was evident. He could have kicked himself.

The man's smirk broadened. "It's not yours, either," he quipped.

That voice… It sounded almost exactly like the man who had killed his uncle. But there was something… uncanny, something _off_ about it that unsettled him.

 _Who the hell was he?_

"Tony Stark sends his regards."

The quiet voice startled Peter, the words sending a chill through him to his very core. Tony… he knew he was alive, but hearing it confirmed by someone who possibly knew where he was… Sends his regards… what did _that_ mean?

"Where is he?" the web-slinger snapped. He could figure out the rest of the details later. "Who are you?"

The next strike came so fast he didn't have time to prepare for it. Peter stumbled back a little, his jaw throbbing, before the dark-haired man shoved him into the brick wall behind him, his arm in front of his throat keeping him in place. He gasped for breath, not able to take a full one, as he tried to struggle free.

"If you fight, you won't live to find out." The man's quiet threat came from close to his ear. "But if you'd like, I can bring you straight to him."

 _Straight to him…?_

The words bounced around his quickly… too quickly… racing mind. _He could find Tony._ He could bring him home if he…

Then, his attacker flinched ever so slightly, the sound of another strike landing sounding much too loud to his heightened senses. Peter's eyes snapped open when the man's hold on him loosened ever so slightly, and they widened in shock when he saw Michelle standing behind him, a metal trash can lid in her hands with her eyes narrowed. Ned stood next to her, his eyes also wide in awe.

But then, she wavered a bit when the dark-haired man turned to look at her over his shoulder, seemingly unfazed by the hit from the makeshift weapon. _Impossible._ She took a few steps back, Ned moving behind her, as she raised the trash can lid in front of them like a shield. The man smirked again, keeping his arm in place over Peter's neck as he fully turned to face the other two teens.

"Oh… You shouldn't have done that, dear…"

 _No!_

The web-slinger cried out as he used both legs to kick the man back with as much strength as he could muster, causing him to stumble away. He landed on the alley floor in a graceful crouch before he leapt forward, shouldering their attacker into the brick wall across from him. He then glanced over his shoulder at his friends.

"Michelle!" he called, holding a hand up. The teen then turned and landed a kick in the center of the man's chest, forcing him back into the wall when he came for him again. His brow furrowed slightly when the strike sounded… hollow? Not exactly but… not like human flesh… More metallic…

That's when it hit him. He knew what he was facing.

With a nod, Michelle tossed the trash can lid at him. Peter snatched it easily out of the air before swinging it out and slamming it into the dark-haired man's head with all of his strength.

Nothing had ever felt quite so satisfying.

Their attacker stumbled, somehow still on his… _its_ … feet. Peter didn't relent as he kept up strike after strike.

Ned gaped. "Dude, what the hell!"

Suddenly, the dark-haired man stiffened, jumbled and incoherent words spilling out of its mouth before it collapsed, rigid, to the hard ground. The web-slinger crouched next to it, moving the dark jacket and shirt aside to reveal the man's chest. It was nearly smooth, not like normal skin.

Michelle took a few cautious steps forward, her eyes narrowed in both a morbid curiosity and horror. Ned trailed along behind her with a quiet whimper. "What… what is that…?" she asked.

Peter was silent for a couple minutes, his mind moving too fast for him to catch up as he tried to catch his breath. He ran a stressed hand over his face as he glanced up at her. "It's an android," he answered quietly, reaching out and pulling the green bandanna away from their attacker's head to reveal some wires that had come loose from all the strikes from the trash can lid.

Ned let out a long, shaky sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God… You looked like you were going crazy for a minute there, dude…"

The web-slinger gave him a sheepish smile, though it was a look that didn't reach his eyes. "It's felt like it sometimes lately," he admitted. He then turned back to the android, his brow furrowing as he took the Rolex from its limp grasp with shaking fingers.

How did this thing have something of Tony's…? Why had an android even been after him…?

He had to tell someone about this… Happy, Rhodey, Steve… _someone_. This was the first big lead he'd stumbled on in the search for the missing billionaire.

Michelle straightened up, taking a deep breath as she pressed her hands to her eyes. "Okay… Peter. I think you owe us an explanation." She lowered her hands again, glaring at him. "What the hell is going on here?"

Peter looked up from the watch and met her intense gaze. He shook his head slightly, his face crumpling.

"I… I don't know…"

* * *

"Nat? Nat, you're breaking up, I really can't hear you…"

 _"There's… someone… building… careful…"_

Clint sighed with frustration, his eyes narrowed as he glanced at the empty vending machines. "Tasha, I can't hear you well," he said. "There's some interference… Hold on. Let me see if it's better upstairs."

There was only a crackle in response.

Trying to ignore the unsettling feeling starting to seep into his bones, he started to make his way up the steps that would bring him to the offices upstairs, willing his focus to be on what he was supposed to be looking for. But then, he paused, his heart skipping a beat, when he heard a panicked scream come from the hall behind him.

 _Scott._

"Lang!" Clint backtracked down the steps and down the hall toward the one the ex-con had taken, alert for any sounds of a threat. He couldn't shake the words Natasha had said. "You all right?"

The archer slowed his pace when a moment passed without a word from the other man. Each step was slow, calculated, as he reached for an arrow from his quiver.

But then, he stopped when Scott's voice floated back to him.

"Yeah, all good! Just a, uh… just a stray!"

Clint let out a sigh and fought the urge to roll his eyes. The ex-con was much too nervous for his own good if he really wanted to focus on this mission. He'd have to keep an ear on him through the comms. He took a brief moment to listen for Wanda, noticing everything was quiet on her end, before he turned and made his way back toward the staircase. He once again lingered at the bottom as he looked up at the darker second story, giving his bow a shake to extend it to its full length. It was likely he wouldn't need it, but there was a feeling he couldn't rid of that something was just a little bit _off_. That the ear pieces weren't working as well as they should bothered him. There shouldn't have been nearly as much interference as there was.

He took each step slowly, his senses on high alert as he reached the top. The lights on this floor had all been shut off, the moonlight streaming in through the high windows casting strange shadows across the floor and walls. His sharp gaze landed on the door at the end of the hall from him, seeing it led to the emergency stairwell, as the light inside flickered eerily.

The first office door he reached was locked, and he made a mental note to return to it once he was done with the others. The next one was completely empty, and he listened to Scott's mutterings to himself to keep himself calm as he did a sweep of the room, just in case. He was just contemplating how to check in the vent on the wall above him when the ex-con voiced a question about the cold.

"There's a freezer down there," Clint explained, going over a quick layout of the warehouse in his head from the last time he'd been there. "For storage."

The archer smirked as he stepped back into the hall to grab the wooden chair he'd passed that was resting against the wall as Scott grumbled about the freezing temperature. Though it faded when he couldn't help but find that a little odd himself. They'd found a few incriminating things in the freezer last time, and he was pretty sure he'd personally ordered it shut off since there'd been nothing left to preserve.

"Let us know," he said when the other man informed them he was about to enter the basement. He dragged the chair into the room and set it beneath the vent before climbing onto it, frowning a little at the distortion in the comm. His two teammates were close, it shouldn't have been so in and out unless they were further out of range. Unless something in the warehouse was just naturally… or possibly not so naturally, he realized… interfering with the signal.

Something didn't feel quite right.

With a couple tools he always had in his back pocket, Clint quickly got the small, rectangular vent cover removed and peeked inside with a tiny flashlight. Though there was nothing of note to be found that he could see, other than years' worth of dust piled up.

His eyes watering and his sinuses burning, he returned the metal cover and hopped down from the chair, leaving the room to head to the next office. There was a table left here, as well as a few cardboard boxes. He went through those first, finding that they were all empty, and was checking the underside of the table to see if there were any possible secret compartments when Scott's voice managed to break through the white noise again. His voice, aside from the distortion, sounded… different, though he couldn't quite put a finger on it.

 _"Hey, guys… I'm feeling a little weird…"_

The archer froze. "Weird how?" he asked.

 _"I dunno, man… lightheaded, weak…"_ the ex-con answered before he coughed. He was breaking up more than before. _"Maybe there's a… a gas leak…?"_

 _A gas leak?_ He supposed it was possible, though something about that didn't settle well with him. Clint stood, heading for the door. He had to get him out of there. "Hold tight. I'll be there soon," he assured him.

But he paused when the other man spoke up again. _"No, I'll be fi…"_

"Lang?" Clint raised his voice when Scott's trailed off. "Lang, come in, are you all right?" Though he didn't get a response, unsure if he'd even been heard over all of the distortion. He sighed with frustration. "Wanda, are you okay?" She'd been quiet ever since she'd answered Scott's question about the cold, which was starting to concern him. But he didn't get a response from her, either, just more static.

Something definitely wasn't right about any of this.

The archer stepped back out into the hall, seeing there was only one office door left other than the locked one. He clenched his jaw. He had to help Scott, despite the other man telling him otherwise. But there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, a what if there was something important, some sort of answer, in that room…

Taking a deep breath, he took the few steps needed to peek inside. A quick look, he reasoned. He wouldn't even go inside unless…

There was a piece of paper sitting on the table, the only thing in this room. Almost waiting for him. Clint quickly glanced around before he stepped inside and hurried to the table, lifting what he now saw were two sheets as he directed the thin flashlight beam on them.

The top sheet was a blueprint layout of the warehouse with certain rooms and areas highlighted in different colors. The second was a diagram of the ventilation systems with instructions of how to operate them.

Clint's brow furrowed. Why would these be…

 _"Guys…? Can you hear me…?"_

"Wanda?" the archer wondered, straining his ears to try to hear her better. "You're barely coming in… What's wrong?"

He waited for a moment as he tried to make out her response, but all he could sort of hear was _"… weird, too…"_

"Can you repeat that? Wanda?"

But he only got static in return.

Clint cursed heatedly under his breath, glancing once more at the sheet on the vents. He scanned over the directions on how to turn certain ones on, how to direct air flow…

Why would these be left for him to find?

 _"Cassie!"_

He jumped slightly and nearly dropped the papers when another voice suddenly managed to break through the white noise of his comm. He knew that name… but it didn't make any sense to him why it would be said here. He remembered Scott telling him all about his little girl after he had picked him up to head to Germany to help Steve, which felt like so long ago now… But he knew there was _no_ way that Cassie was in the warehouse.

"Lang!" Clint called. "What's going on? Lang!"

The only response he received was more panicked shouts from the ex-con.

Clint set the papers down on the table. He needed to get them out of there. Though his gaze landed on the sheet about the ventilation systems one more time as he was about to turn away, and a terrible thought struck him.

Someone had wanted him to see these.

It may not have been a gas leak at all…

Could Fennhoff had possibly known about him after all…?

 _No room for error._

His heart skipping a beat, Clint hurried out of the room and back into the dark hall. He paused almost immediately, however, when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Dread flooded through him as he tightened his hold on his bow.

The door of the emergency stairwell was now open a crack.

A scream of agony, of despair, echoed in the darkness around him and crackled through his ear piece, causing the very foundation of the building to tremble ever so slightly. He dropped to a crouch to keep his balance, his eyes wide. The sound was enough to make the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end.

"Wanda?" But he got no response, and he doubted she could even hear him over her anguish.

 _"Clint!"_ Scott yelled, and he was glad to hear the other man sounded a bit more lucid now. _"Clint, I'm fine! Get to Wanda!"_

"On it," Clint replied, rising to a standing position and hoping his tone wasn't as uneasy as he felt. The ex-con sounded like he would be able to hold his own for a bit yet, but Wanda… She had the power to bring this place down if she wasn't careful.

The archer hurried down the hall, once again pausing when he reached the first office, which had been locked. His breath caught in his chest when he saw that not only was the door now open a crack, but there was also a flickering light through the window. He slowly reached a hand out, cautiously starting to push the door open, when he heard the other man again, his voice badly distorted.

 _"Guys! There's some… in here!"_

If Scott was saying what he had already feared, it was that someone else was in the warehouse with them. And attacking his two teammates somehow. And they had access to all three levels through that emergency stairwell…

Clint grabbed an arrow out of his quiver as he cautiously leaned into the room. This must have been the security office, for there wasn't much inside the small space other than a computer hub, a cushioned rolling chair, and a large monitor to display the security footage around the warehouse. That was what was playing now, he noticed as he slowly stepped closer. There were two feeds being shown. One was of Scott frantically looking around the basement and the other was of Wanda screaming and unleashing her power in the production area.

Then, a third screen popped up below theirs, and the archer's eyes widened when he saw it was of himself, watching the security feed. He quickly turned to look over his shoulder at the camera in the far corner of the room that was now blinking red. The camera that decidedly hadn't been on when he'd come in, no matter what the screen in front of him had said.

That camera had been turned on remotely. Someone outside of the warehouse must have been watching them.

 _No room for error._

Clint then realized that he could no longer hear Wanda, and he turned back to the monitor. His concern increased when he saw the younger woman was kneeling very still aside from how her shoulders would briefly shake. "Wanda, can you hear me?" he asked.

Her answer was quiet, distorted. _"Y-yes,"_ she murmured as she shakily pushed herself to her feet. _"But you're... king up..."_

She was also breaking up. Clint's brow furrowed as he watched her, tapping on his comm to see if the problem was on his end. What had happened in there? "Are you all right?"

A moment passed before he could hear her crackling voice again. _"Yes... fine now... Clint, I-!"_

At that moment, Scott's frantic voice broke through the white noise again, and Clint raised his gaze to his feed to see that the other man was scrambling around basement.

 _"Cassie! Cassie! Where are you? Cassie?! Cassie no!"_ he called as he frantically searched.

Clint cursed under his breath, about to leave the office and head down to the storage area to get the ex-con when he noticed a line of text had appeared on his feed. On alert, he leaned a little closer to read it better.

 _Your move, Little Hawk._

Clint felt as though a punch had landed in his gut as his breath left him and his blood ran cold. _Little Hawk..._ He could almost hear the kindly voice taunting him, egging him on, showing him just how much he had missed and how much he would lose because of that oversight. The message didn't even need to be verbal. The text held the same amount of patronization and lording as it once had years ago...

 _Fennhoff._

Just thinking his name was enough to send a chill down Clint's spine. Not able to waste any more time, refusing to waste any more time, though it may have already been too late, the archer left the room and cautiously headed for the stairwell with his senses on high alert, his bow and arrow held tightly in his hands. He paused a few steps down when Wanda's voice, or at least a few words, managed to make it past all the static.

 _"... Clint... can hear me... else in here... with Fennhoff... gas... have to... here now!"_

Even though she said what he had already realized, that someone working with the mad doctor was in the building and was using his greatest weapon, it still chilled him to hear. He had to get to her and Scott, he had to try to reach Nat...

He then held his breath when he thought he heard a footstep from up the stairs behind him, but when he chanced a glance over his shoulder, there was no sign of movement.

The archer knew he was letting himself get too rattled. He had to keep his head and keep focused. Otherwise, Fennhoff would win. He turned his attention back to Wanda, even though all he could hear through the comm was static. "Stay where you are, Wanda," he told her as he headed down a couple more steps. "I'm coming to you."

Suddenly, he felt a sharp sensation in the side of his left thigh, almost like a really tight pinch. Clint glanced down, hardly able to register that an arrow had embedded itself deeply into his leg, and the warm sensation on his skin was blood he was already losing, before the limb gave out from underneath him as the force from the strike propelled him forward. The shaft hit one of the steps on his way down, pushing the arrow further into the soft tissue of his leg and drawing a cry of pain from him, before snapping off close to the entry wound. His forward moment took him all the way down the stairs before depositing him in the midst of the broken glass at the foot of the steps. He could feel several shards dig into the exposed skin of his face, arms, and hands. His bow and arrow both clattered to a halt a couple feet away from him. His comm fell out of his ear and skidded underneath one of the empty vending machines.

He wasn't sure how long he remained sprawled on the ground, the pain pulsing through his thigh and the rest of his body in time with his racing heart. His leg was just a vice of agony, each heartbeat sending another wave of heat through his body. The archer closed his eyes for a moment, his breathing harsh, as the warehouse spun around him.

There was no doubt that there was someone else in there with them.

He had to get to Scott and Wanda... he had to get them out... He had to protect his team…

Fortifying his determination, knowing what was to come, Clint grit his teeth as he sat up, the motion sending a tremor of pain down his leg. He stifled a groan as he checked the damage. Blood flow was steady but not critical at that point. The shaft, though broken, was still long enough to stop most of the blood flow from exiting the wound. However, that could easily change as soon as he began moving. He hissed and shut his eyes tightly, his face paling and his breath quickening, as he gingerly probed the wound, attempting to determine just how deep the arrow had pierced. It budged beneath his touch, so while tissue damage was going to be something he would have to deal with, it didn't appear the arrowhead had struck bone.

Small favors.

He deftly tore a strip from the hem of his shirt, tying it around his thigh with slightly trembling fingers to attempt to keep what was left of the arrow shaft a bit more still, as well as to staunch more of the blood flow. He let out as lightly shaking breath as he took a moment to mentally assess the rest of him. His body hurt from the rough trip down the stairs, but it didn't appear that there were any other injuries he had to worry about, aside from the scratches from the glass.

Bracing himself, the archer slowly pushed himself to his feet. He had to lean against the wall behind him for support as he cursed under his breath when his left leg shook beneath him. He had to collect himself briefly as he waited for the burning pain to fade even a little, knowing it wouldn't get much better. His hand curled into a fist before slamming into the wall with frustration when he realized that with his comm out of reach. He was on his own. Not that it would have done much good contacting Natasha for some help on the outside since the signal hadn't been working well, anyway...

That was when it sunk in.

"Son of a..."

Of course. Fennhoff must have been jamming the signal somehow, which would also explain how communicating with Scott and Wanda hadn't been working well either. It had been an ambush all along.

But how had the doctor known about him...?

Clint cast his gaze up the stairs he had just fallen down, but the second floor was still dark and silent. No sign of anyone. But the hair on the back of his neck still stood up. He couldn't help feeling more than anything that he was being watched even still...

Then, the warehouse trembled slightly again, and he pressed himself even more against the wall to keep himself upright. The few lights above him flickered; then several more at the end of the hall shattered, faint flickers of scarlet lighting up the darkness.

"Wanda!" he yelled, knowing she probably couldn't hear him. He didn't know what was happening, but it wouldn't take much to turn the situation volatile...

He then remembered the security feed of Scott, scrambling around the basement on the verge of hysterics as he called out for his daughter. His heart wavered, wishing he could be in two places at once to make sure that he could get them both out. If Fennhoff, or someone working with him, had unleashed that hallucinogenic gas into the warehouse... Wanda would have no problem trapping them all in. He had to reach her first, for all of their safety.

Clint winced as he took a few steps forward, each one sending agony through his thigh. His leg shook with each step. He grit his teeth, but didn't move faster knowing he couldn't or his leg would give out on him. He gingerly bent over to grab his bow and the arrow he'd dropped, wincing as he straightened back up.

And froze.

A fine, light mist was filtering into the hall from the vents high on the wall above him. It crept down the walls like a giant gossamer spider inching down to pool just above the concrete of the floor. He had no doubt it was Fennhoff's hallucinogenic gas.

The archer immediately covered his nose and mouth with his arm, but he knew he may have already been too late. He didn't know for sure how long it had been seeping into the space. But he couldn't allow himself to panic. Panicking would only make it worse. He tightened his hold on his bow as he limped forward as quickly as he could, setting his jaw against the pain of every move.

 _Just stay focused on the task at hand._

 _Wanda... hold on kiddo... I'll be there soon... Hang in there, Lang..._

 _Focus._

But then, a deep voice that he hadn't heard in many years, one that he'd believed he'd never hear again, slurred loudly from behind him. He instantly stopped in his tracks.

"Clint! What the hell are you doin', boy?"

His breath caught in his chest as the strong, bitter scent of alcohol drifted over to him, invading his senses. The muscles in his lower back tightened in a way they hadn't since he was a young boy, and his heart immediately jumped to his throat. His hands began to tremble against his will as he lowered his arm, nearly causing him to drop his bow and arrow. Just like that, he was that scared little boy that he'd used to be, the one he'd been desperate to leave behind. Even after all this time, it was a voice that still had the power to bring him to his knees.

 _No... it couldn't be real... It wasn't real. It was impossible..._

The lights continued to flicker around him, the warehouse fading into a small, dank living room with the ancient tube television with an antenna that rarely worked, a hastily patched window, the old floral-print couch with a missing cushion, dirty carpets, a lamp in the corner that always flickered, and littered with empty beer cans and bottles. The archer blinked rapidly, attempting to clear what he knew was a hallucination.

He wouldn't play into it...

No... he wasn't back here... He'd turned his back on this place years ago and had never looked back...

He refused to be brought back there now.

Then, he flinched when the sound of shattering glass echoed from behind him, from near that junk TV. Despite telling himself that he wouldn't play into what he knew was a hallucination, his body refused to listen to him and instinctively moved out of the line of fire as quickly as he could. Clint closed his eyes as he let out a shuddering breath, opening and closing his fist around the shaft of his bow.

"What'd I say, boy? You look at me when I'm talkin' to you!"

A moment passed before Clint slowly, hesitantly, turned to face the owner of the cruel voice, almost as though his body was moving on its own accord. As it'd always used to. Even though years, decades, had passed, the reaction – the obedience – had been so ingrained in him that he could not disobey. Though there was no way he could have been prepared for the sight of the dark-haired man with the seemingly permanent scowl set into his lined face, an image which made his very blood run cold. It was a face he hadn't seen, at least outside of his nightmares, since he'd been a child.

"D-Dad..."

It was certainly the same man he'd spent the first part of his life with. There was no mistaking the glazed eyes, the deep scar he wore as a badge of honor on his right cheek from a bar fight, and the constant look of disapproval, of loathing, in his sturdy features. Like he'd never even wanted his children but was stuck with them.

But there was no way it could be the same man. It was impossible because...

The archer's gaze flitted to the walls of the apartment. If he squinted hard enough, the vents on the wall of the warehouse hallway would blink into view for a millisecond. _The gas. Fennhoff_. He had to keep reminding himself that none of this was real. His childhood home wasn't real. His father wasn't real. This couldn't hurt him.

 _It's just the gas... it's just the gas...it's just the gas._

"You're not real," Clint muttered as he moved his gaze back to the man standing in the doorway that led into the kitchen. Attempted to meet his dark eyes, stare him down. Though he hated how his own voice sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that fact. He hated the uncertainty he heard there...the fear that lay behind the words…

He raised his bow and secured his hold on the arrow, turning so he could more easily fire, when the older man hurled the beer bottle he held with as much force as he could at him. He managed to avoid loosing the arrow, though he jumped slightly when the smashing sound was louder than he expected as the bottle burst against the stained wall right next to him. He could almost feel tiny glass shards brush against his arm, could almost see thin trails of blood snaking down toward his glove.

He sucked in a breath, shutting his eyes tightly.

 _It's not real..._

Though he did not voice the words aloud, the confidence he felt had shrunk considerably. He could hear it and feel it even without the vocalization.

"You show me some respect, boy!" the figure before Clint bellowed, stepping closer to him. "I am your father! I'm tired of you and your brother not listening to a damn thing I say and disregarding what you're told. Well, my word is law here, you little bastards..."

Against his better judgment, the archer slowly lowered his bow at the mention of the other child who had been in this nightmare house with him during that turbulent time. The pain that came along with the reminder of his older brother was worse than he expected as his chest tightened, robbing him of breath.

 _Barney..._

 _He was a small child again, sitting – hiding if he was being honest with himself – in the narrow space between his bed and the wall of his room. His knees were tucked to his chest with his arms wrapped around them while his hands pressed against his ears. Tears sat in his eyes as he tried in vain to block everything out, to pretend like it didn't exist. Like he wasn't cowering with the hope that he wouldn't be found that evening._

 _His father's loud voice- angry because dinner wasn't ready yet- echoed throughout the compact house, demanding attention and sucking what small goodness had been present before his arrival from the small space. He flinched, pushed himself further into the corner – further into the pitiful amount of safety and security to be found there – curling as tight as he could and squeezing his eyes shut when movement came from on top of the bed._

 _He'd been found._

 _However, a second later, a different head appeared above him, the chin-length dark brown hair falling into Barney's youthful face. The other boy dropped into the space next to his younger counterpart and wiggled so that he was right next to him to him, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him against his chest._

 _"Hey... it's okay." He whispered._

 _Another shout echoed through the house, accompanied by the pleading tones of their mother. The younger boy whimpered, pressing himself against his brother._

 _"Shhhh," Barney soothed, rubbing a hand up and down the other's back. "Hey. Weekend starts tomorrow. How about if it's nice enough and not raining, we go down to the creek and hunt for toads?"_

 _He just nodded, safe – if only for a brief moment – in his brother's arms around him._

They'd each caught a couple of toads that sunny day, he recalled, before releasing them back to their homes.

 _He was older now, sitting completely still, completely numb, on the hard floor of the bathroom, leaning back against the tub. Barney, his hair tied back in a ponytail revealing a fresh red handprint on his right cheek, crouched next to him. His brother made him press a pack of frozen peas over his left eye while he dabbed at his swollen, busted lip with some wet toilet paper. Concern was clear in his eyes as he tended to his younger brother's wounds with practiced hands, but so too was his exasperation._

 _"It shouldn't be too bad... Don't touch this," he muttered, adding some Neosporin to the cut. "I'll figure out a way to explain it to your teachers tomorrow."_

 _He didn't say anything. He couldn't even form a coherent thought. He didn't know why his brother even bothered with the excuses anymore. They weren't needed. It wasn't a secret what went on in the Barton household, it hadn't been for a long time now. He'd always hoped, had always dreamed and wished, that someone would finally do something, that someone would actually give a shit. Countless nights he'd spent kneeling by the window in his room hoping to see just one shooting star through the glare of the city lights. Sometimes it would be because he was in too much pain to sleep, unable to find a comfortable position that would allow him to fall into the bliss of unconsciousness through the mass of bruises littering his body. Other times he would keep watch because it would be his heart hurting over the fact that it was Barney who was in too much pain to sleep that night, or over the sight he'd caught of his mother kneeling in the kitchen amidst shattered dishes and broken bottles and sobbing silently into her hands, when he snuck out when his thirst grew too big to ignore._

 _But he never saw one, was never able to make that wish. And over the years, he'd learned that he, Barney, and their mother were on their own._

 _No help would come._

 _Barney sighed as he set the antiseptic ointment aside before sitting down himself, looking into the younger boy's good eye. "Why..." He stopped himself, hesitating, before pushing forward. "Why don't you just stay quiet and listen?"_

 _He narrowed his good eye at him. "He was gonna go after Mom. I-I couldn't."_

 _The other boy's face crumpled, and the boys tumbled into each other's arms. The angry red mark on the older's cheek would only linger for another day or so. The younger's black eye and split lip would take_ _longer. However, the scars on their hearts and souls would never fully heal._

He never really had learned to do that, the archer thought. He'd spoken up against his father more often than not, causing more trouble or pain for him than he would have had had he just stayed quiet and listened. Just like Barney had always begged him to do. But he could never help himself. He'd never been able to respect the man who had never respected them. He'd had to look after their mom, he'd had to look after his brother when he'd tried to talk their dad down when he got too drunk or tried to intervene when he'd go off on one of them in one of his violent rages...

Until one day, he suddenly hadn't had to anymore.

 _... Barney..._

"I'll teach you to respect me, boy!"

Clint was yanked out of his thoughts in time to see his father rushing at him, fist raised. Clint full-bodily flinched back, raising his arms to shield his head even as he began to crouch down, making himself less of a target. The straight spine he'd developed through his many years with S.H.I.E.L.D. disappeared as the lessons he'd learned since he could walk took over, forcing everything out. Though now, he noticed that his father looked different. His face was deathly pale, bruised, and sporting many lacerations. Just how he'd looked after that fatal drunk driving accident that had claimed both him and their mother...

 _He was lying curled up in bed, his bedroom door open a crack, as he listened to Barney speaking to a couple of men in the living room. He strained his ears, but he couldn't quite hear what they were saying. Their deep voices sounded professional. Somber._

 _"I know you're awake."_

 _The soft words startled him. He hadn't even realized he'd slipped into something of a doze while trying to hear what was being discussed in the living room. He looked up to see his brother in the doorway._

 _Barney slowly, almost cautiously, wandered in and sat on the edge of the bed. He hesitantly reached out for him, but pulled his hand back. An uncomfortable silence passed between them for neither one knew how long, the unspoken acknowledgement that their lives had just changed forever lingering in the air between them. Barney's breath hitched as a couple tears rolled down his cheeks. These tears were complicated. His black eye had lightened a few shades._

 _The worry, fear, and sadness in his soul increased at the sight. Barney never cried not, even when their dad struck or belted him, bruising him so badly that he had to stay home from school until the welts and bruises faded. Not even the time his injuries had been so bad that he'd had to be rushed to the emergency room. Not in front of him, anyway. But he knew he did when he thought no one saw._

 _His brother swallowed hard, trying to regain himself as he decided on how to best break the news that he already suspected. But he couldn't tell the older boy that. His own voice seemed to have left him._

 _Finally, Barney spoke. "It's... Mom and Dad..."_

 _That's all that needed to be said. He sat up, leaning into his brother's embrace as Barney held him close to his chest, silent tears shared between them._

They'd fallen asleep like that, he recalled. The officers who had come to inform them of the accident had let them stay that way until morning.

It hadn't taken them long to pack the next day. They really hadn't had too many things to either of their names in that house. Not with that man in charge.

 _He and Barney stood in the living room, hand in hand, with all of their belongings. Neither of them were fully listening to the blonde woman in the neatly-pressed navy dress suit from Child Protective Services enthusiastically telling them she was going to treat them to a special breakfast out. They both hid their smiles from her when their stomachs grumbled at the thought of this._

 _They couldn't remember the last time they'd actually gone out to eat anywhere, let alone together._

 _But when she mentioned that she would be taking them to an orphanage after she took them shopping for some new clothes after getting something to eat, he tightened his hand around his brother's. Taking a step closer to his brother, he looked up. His heart raced in panic feeling as if it were going to come out of his chest._

 _They wouldn't end up separated... would they? They couldn't end up separated..._

 _Barney smiled down at him, squeezing his hand back. "Don't worry, Clint. I won't let them separate us. I promise."_

And he'd kept to his word. They had never been separated in the six years they had spent in the orphanage. If someone wanted one of them, they'd have to take both. They had made that clear since day one.

Though it had also been a little problematic for them. Barney, while he had often kept to himself, was at least pleasant to the other kids and the adults who worked there. Clint, on the other hand, kept to himself and would more often than not pick fights with other kids who got too close. He just wasn't ready to risk it – to risk getting close and caring for someone other than Barney only for them to turn against or be taken from him or used against him. It was better to keep everyone away. It hadn't taken long for the reputation that he had a temper and was difficult to handle to spread. It wasn't a secret that Barney was getting more looks from interested families, even though he'd be aging out of the system in the next year or so.

 _"Why don't you just stay quiet and listen?"_ He'd never forget the disappointment in his brother's voice after one particularly nasty fight.

Then, one night, Barney had woken him up in the ungodly hours of the morning telling him to pack his things as quickly as possible. He'd overheard the Home Parents taking about a family that was coming the next day with the intention of starting the process of bringing him home... but not Clint. It was something he wasn't even giving a thought to. Instead, he'd shown his brother a flyer for a travelling attraction that was going to be in the next town over that weekend that he'd picked up when he and a couple friends he'd made had made a run to town earlier that day.

So, they'd silently packed up their things and ran away, leaving the orphanage far behind them as they set their eyes on the next town over, heading toward their uncertain future as part of...

The archer blinked a few times, his father swaying back into his vision as he bore down on him. More instincts took over and he made sure to keep the fleshier part of his arm turned outwards and to keep his fingers tucked well away as he shielded his face with his arm as the other man approached, closing his eyes and turning his head. He was stronger now. He wasn't a scared little kid anymore. He had to remember that he could fight back now. He could defend himself if he had to...

 _No... it's not real... he's not real... snap out of it, Clint..._

A moment passed… and nothing happened. No angry yell, no scared cry, no pain... Nothing.

Instead, the pleasant smell of fresh buttered popcorn, the sweet scents of whirled cotton candy and fried funnel cake, and the distinct aroma of straw and animals washed over him. The distant cheerful melody of circus music reached his ears, and through his closed eyelids, he could see colorful flashing lights.

His whole body stiffened as dread coursed through him. No... he couldn't be back here, it was impossible... This wasn't his life anymore, he'd turned his back on this place and what it stood for a long time ago... just like this place had made it clear it had wanted nothing to do with him.

 _None of this was real... it's the gas... it's not real..._

Then how did it feel like he was under the familiar, welcoming shadows and warmth of that big tent again? His left leg pulsed beneath him, keeping him grounded. But the warehouse he'd been in had been left far behind him.

"Clint! What are you doing? You're not supposed to be back here."

 _... No..._

The archer shook his head slightly. That heavily accented voice... For another chapter of his life, it was a voice that had provided more comfort for him than his father's ever had. But now, it was another that filled his heart with dread.

"Clint?" the impatient voice pressed.

Against his wishes, Clint felt his eyes open as though pried, and he found himself face-to-face with the dark-haired man who had been a big part of why he and Barney had been accepted into the carnival after they'd fled the orphanage, hungry and exhausted from their travel. He'd given them opportunities, he'd taught them everything they knew about handling a sword, even though it had never been his weapon of choice. He'd been his mentor.

When he and his brother had first joined the Carson Carnival of Travelling Wonders, they'd been given mainly menial tasks since they were basically just free labor- picking up after the animals, making sure they had fresh food and bedding, making sure the performers had everything they needed during a show, cleaning up after the audience left, picking up the supplies and tent before they left for the next town. There had been no shortage of troubled youth who seemed to find the solutions to their problems in running away to join the circus, it'd seemed. It hadn't been a pretty life, but at least he and Barney had been able to stay together there.

Until they weren't.

It was when Jacques Duquesne, a man who called himself Swordsman for his performances, had discovered Clint trying his hand at one of his swords after a show one evening that he had decided to take on both him and Barney as pupils, to teach them the blade work they'd need to know to take place in shows along with them. Their dues had been paid, and he couldn't have been more thrilled.

Clint had absorbed everything Jacques had taught him like a sponge, throwing himself into the intricacies of being a swords master. By the time they were actually allowed to perform in shows, he could incorporate the deadly beautiful weapons into his acrobatic techniques he'd also learned along the way; could delicately balance many of them on his hands and feet; could juggle them as if they were nothing, even behind his back; could launch one or more at a target across the room and not miss, with or without another person involved in the mix; and could slice through anything put in front of him and make it look like an art form.

While performing, he could lose himself. He could forget the demons in his past, and in his own heart.

Barney had done well, too, though he had never been as focused on the lessons as he had been. Their mastery of the skills had been about equal over the months they'd spent wearing down their fingers until they'd bled, but Clint had always managed to be a hair ahead. As he recalled, his brother's focus had also been elsewhere during that time. More specifically, on an acrobat and fire eater with ebony skin and hair that waved down her back in hues of orange and yellow that emulated the very flames she had seemed to be able to bend to her will. Simone, a girl a year younger than Barney who had been orphaned and joined the carnival at ten years old, had been one of the people who had made sure he and his brother had had a warm meal and place to sleep the day they'd stumbled onto the site. She'd always been kind and encouraging to them, even before they'd been trained. After all, she'd been through it all, too. She'd been the first person he could say he'd considered a friend in quite some time, if ever. Though even then, he could easily see Barney had had eyes for her.

The more Clint worked and performed over the next few years, he'd earned the spot as the sword master's assistant during shows. But, he remembered, this had also started to cause a rift with Barney. His brother had felt overlooked by their trainer, a little jealous that he'd stayed regulated to a secondary performer. Though Barney had also been training with Buck Chrisholm, a man who called himself Trick Shot for performances, as he'd learned his way around a bow and arrow, which he'd even preferred. Buck had offered to train him as well, but he'd turned it down, preferring to devote his time to his training with Jacques.

Though the hint of bitterness that he'd seen in the older man's eyes had startled him. While his relationship with Barney had, at some points, not always been the best, they'd never been at odds like that before. They'd always survived together.

But, as he'd soon realized, not only were he and his brother being trained to be circus performers, they had also been being bred to be full-fledged members of the criminal troupe.

 _A smirk spread across his face as he raised one of his swords to block the blade of his adversary that had been aiming for his throat. Barney returned the look, his eyes gleaming as he leapt back in a swift, graceful motion before coming for him again, one of his swords raised._

 _Barney, with Simone's arm linked through his, gave a woman with her older husband, who was buying some popcorn for the upcoming show, a charming smile- small talk had always been something he'd been gifted in- while he deftly lifted a coin purse from her bag as he walked past._

Sometimes, if they'd performed well enough at a show, they'd be allowed to keep whatever they'd managed to take that night.

At least Barney, with his girlfriend in tow, had taken the opportunity to get out from under the shadows of the Big Top and turn his life around before he had, but...

 _No._

Clint hissed, putting a hand to his head as he grit his teeth against the painful memories. His leg continued to pulse with agony, and he reached out blindly for something to lean against for support. He had to stop that train of thought before it could continue and lead him to a place he didn't want to go. The hallucinogenic taking hold in his system was causing enough difficulty; he couldn't afford to get distracted further by allowing his guilt about Barney to consume him fully…

He had to fight the effects of the gas. He had to get out.

 _... Barney..._

The archer forced himself to look back at his former mentor, sitting cross-legged on an intricately designed rug on the floor of his tent. He appeared almost patient in waiting for him now, a blatantly false smile on his face. It was then he noticed that there were a couple thick stacks of money in Jacques's hands, a cruel gleam in his eye as he regarded him. The older man had had a gambling problem, often stopping in casinos or making bets in every town they'd stopped in. And he'd been laundering money from the carnival to settle his debts.

A criminal stealing from other criminals; what a concept, he thought dryly.

Though of course, it'd been just his luck that he'd been the one to find out the sword master's secret.

Jacques tsked quietly, shaking his head in disapproval. "You know, it's too bad you had to be the one to find out about this, Clint," he murmured, the disappointment- almost regret- clear in his tone as he rose to his feet. "You were a wonderful assistant. I don't know if I'll ever find another like you, not even your brother. You had so much potential..."

 _He was lying on the straw-covered floor of Swordsman's tent, trying to keep his head covered as blow after blow with the hilt of his sword – the very sword Jacques had gifted him when he asked him to become his assistant – kept coming..._

 _A few tears leaked from his eyes, his voice weak as he cried out in pain... doubting if calling for help would even be worth the energy if no one was around to hear..._

 _He could see flashes of his father's enraged face in the furious, almost deranged, look in Jacque's features above him... except, unlike his father, he knew his mentor wouldn't stop until he stopped breathing..._

 _The edges of his vision began to fade and darken as it became harder and harder to breathe, the hits to his back becoming stronger and stronger as Jacques lost himself to his rage. He began to feel numb to each strike, his voice refused to work..._

 _... He was going to die in this tent, and no one would know what had become of him. Swordsman would see to that..._

 _... Barney..._

 _A familiar panicked cry sounded distant in his ears, and a second man mercifully stopped the beating as he pulled Jacques off him..._

 _Barney crouched in front of him, panic on his face, as he used his own body to shield him in a way so familiar in case the older man came back. His brother's hands cupped his face, hovering over the bruised_

 _swelling already beginning to form from the blows he'd been unable to protect himself from..._

 _"Why don't you just stay quiet and listen?" His brother's words echoed in his mind, but he'd most likely just imagined them as he allowed the pulling darkness to claim him..._

 _He opened his eyes again to see he was in the passenger seat of a car as Barney drove well above the speed limit, coming to a stop in front of the doors of a hospital emergency room..._

 _He assured Barney he would be all right and would catch up with the carnival in a few days before he stumbled out of the car. Barney wanted to come with him, but he refused. He had Simone to get back to, the Circus to get back to. If there were to be further complications and repercussions because of the night's events, he wanted his brother as far away from them as possible. Let him be the only one in danger for once…_

 _He limped into the too-bright emergency room waiting area, hardly able to stand, hardly able to breathe..._

 _A pretty, brown-haired nurse's assistant hurried over to him as he collapsed, helping to keep him on his feet..._

 _... Laura..._

Clint suppressed a groan of pain as his left leg nearly buckled beneath him, closing his eyes against the vivid flickers of the night his former mentor had nearly beaten him to death to ensure his secret would never see the light of day. After he had been deemed well enough to leave the hospital, he had caught up with the carnival nearly two weeks later. In that time, Swordsman had fled so he wouldn't be charged with assault, attempted murder, and money laundering and had never been seen or heard from again. It turned out that it had been Buck- the man who Barney had really attached to, looked up to, and respected- who had stopped Jacques's fatal blow, and he'd been interested in bringing Clint under his wing to teach him his trade. To make up for what had happened. And he had accepted.

But Barney...

 _He made himself comfortable on the small bed in his trailer, one he'd outgrown, pulling his thin, scratchy blanket up around his chin to block out the chill. It wasn't much, but it was still good to be back in the one place he had ever considered home._

 _A near silent rustle in the heavy darkness caused him to instantly be on alert as he sat up, his wide eyes trying to see anything in the small space around him. Had Jacques possibly found him, hell bent on finishing what he'd started? He thought he caught the faint gleam of a blade in the dark, but his own swords were too far away to reach to defend himself..._

 _"Chill, Clint. It's just me."_

 _He released the breath he hadn't fully realized he'd been holding, tension draining from his body. "Damn it, Barney... What the hell do you think you're doing sneaking around?"_

 _"My bad, I should have realized you'd still be jumpy after... Calm the hell down, okay?" A flashlight beam flared on, causing him to briefly close his eyes before he saw his brother's pale face and shoulder-length dark hair tied back in a messy ponytail revealing his silver earrings. There were heavy shadows beneath his tired eyes._

 _He watched as Barney slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, noticing that he couldn't quite look him in the eye. He smelled faintly of cigarette smoke. His hands slowly curled into fists as his eyes narrowed at him. This was the first time he'd even seen the older man since he'd returned to the carnival earlier that afternoon; his absence in the group that had greeted him had been noticed. Even Simone had been there, wrapping him up in a tight hug as soon as she'd reached him._

 _"What do you want?" He couldn't help it. The question had come out harsher than he'd meant it to, almost an accusation. His brother's distance had stung._

 _At this, Barney's eyes snapped up to his. "Don't look at me like that," he retorted. He sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Look, last time I saw you, you were bleeding out in Buck's car. I... it made me think of Dad, okay? I panicked."_

 _His gaze faltered slightly. He couldn't fault him that. "So where were you?" he pressed, picking at his fingers. Simone had told him that Barney had no-showed the performances last weekend, which had already been missing Swordsman's act since the man had vanished and he'd been in the hospital, and they'd had to scramble for coverage. The clowns, apparently, had had a lot of work those nights._

 _"I had some thinking to do." Barney set his jaw. For the first time, he noticed that his brother was holding onto a couple pamphlets. "Clint... I'm leaving the carnival in the morning. Sunrise. Simone's coming with me."_

 _A moment passed as the words sank in. "Leaving?" he repeated, the word heavy on his tongue. "Where... where are you going?"_

 _And why aren't you bringing me along? The question hung heavily in the air between them, unspoken._

You promised. 'I won't let them separate us.' That's what you said…

 _Barney made a gesture with the pamphlets. "A recruitment fair's being held," he explained. "In the city, few towns over. I'm going to enlist. Simone and I have enough money to cover any charges and for a down payment on a small apartment that we've been saving up for. She's going to look for some work somewhere while I'm in basic, so... we should be okay."_

 _He got a better look at what was on the cover of the pamphlet. The Army. Barney was enlisting in the Army. He had some fond memories of the two of them playing Captain America with handmade shields as kids, one day dreaming of being soldiers and fighting bad guys, too. His brother was finally going to do it._

 _Alone. Without him._

 _"I won't let them separate us", his brother's voice echoed back to him through the years._

 _"I just... I can't stay here anymore, Clint," Barney continued when he was only met with silence. "We're not kids anymore. What are we going to do? Play pretend forever?" He paused briefly when he saw his brother flinch ever so slightly. "These aren't good people. You know that. After what Jacques did to you... Look, stealing is one thing. But that? I can't do this anymore. I'm done. I want to do something better with my life than this."_

 _"And bringing your girlfriend with you instead to play house with since you're all grown up now," he added quietly. He hated that he couldn't keep the betrayal out of his voice._

 _Barney's eyes widened. "What? Clint, you think I would leave you?" he asked. There was hurt there. "After everything we've been through? After what we've survived together? Are you kidding? That's why I brought these. We want you to come with us."_

 _All he could do was look back at him, not even glancing at the pamphlets when they were passed to him. "I... I don't know..."_

 _A hint of distress crossed Barney's face. "Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for," he muttered with a chuckle. "Look, Clint. I know that we've been relatively comfortable here. But shit, if what Jacques did isn't a damn wake-up call, I don't know what is. We had fun here, I know, but we can't do this forever. We have the opportunity to turn our lives around, to make something of ourselves. Just like we've always wanted to. Because we deserve better than the cards we've been dealt. Don't you think so?"_

 _This time, he did glance down at the pamphlets, studying the stock photo of men and women standing proudly in uniform. He remembered a time where that had been his dream, to wear the same uniform and help people. Even if sometimes that uniform had included a star-spangled shield._

 _But now... now his life consisted of the home he had made for himself here. The people who didn't fit in with normal society, the unhealthy food, the bright colors and lights of the performance space._

 _Could he really step back into a relatively normal life after being acclimated into this one?_

 _Barney's gaze faltered, and he passed a hand over the dark stubble that lined his chin. "Just... do me a favor and think on it tonight, will ya, Clint?" he murmured. He tone was pleading. "We're both over the minimum age of enrollment, so..." He cleared his throat, the sound awkward. "If you change your mind, Simone and I are taking the bus at half-past seven. The stop's just a mile or so down the road from here. I... I hope you're there."_

 _No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't bring himself to say anything. It was as though he'd forgotten how to. He'd literally had a chance for a better life dumped into his lap by some fluke in the universe, and he couldn't tell himself to reach out and take it. Here he'd been worried and angry about Barney abandoning him, only to find out that that wasn't happening and now he was wavering about going? He could easily pack up the little bit he had and leave with his brother right that minute. But he couldn't leave._

 _Barney lingered for a moment longer than was comfortable before he sighed and slowly, reluctantly, rose to his feet. He made his way across the cramped trailer before stopping in front of the door. He pulled another cigarette out of the pack in his jacket pocket before he glanced one more time over his shoulder at him. "Think about it?" he repeated earnestly. "And remember. Half-past seven."_

 _He then turned off the flashlight and disappeared into the night._

It would be the last time he would see the older man for years.

Clint remembered how he'd gotten no sleep that night, turning over the possibility of leaving the carnival along with Barney and Simone as he read and reread the Army pamphlets in the minimal moonlight. It hadn't felt like he could do anything with his life, not at that point. Performing, training, learning new skills had given him life. And he'd had more to learn. He hadn't thought that he could belong any place else in the world.

But then, he had decided to try.

It hadn't taken him long to pack up everything he owned into his duffel

bag and leave the junk trailer he'd called home for what had felt like so long, leave the carnival site, and dash up the road to where the bus stop was to join his brother on the next adventure. After all, it had always been them, together. It should stay that way. Looking back on it, he didn't know why he'd even hesitated, except for fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of leaving the comfortable. Even though Barney would have been right next to him. Just like he'd always had.

But fate could be cruel, and he was too late. The bus had been early, and by the time he'd reached the sign marking the stop, it was already pulling away with dust in its wake. He'd only been able to see, almost feel, Barney's disappointment that he hadn't joined him as he'd watched the bus until it was out of sight. Even though he had tried.

The archer tightened his hold on his bow as another tremor of pain ran through his leg. He'd often looked back on that time, to that one moment, and wondered what would have happened had he made that bus. He probably wouldn't have joined S.H.I.E.L.D., he wouldn't have become an Avenger. He likely would have never gone back to Laura, he wouldn't have Cooper, Lila, and Nathaniel. He wouldn't be a fugitive, living on the run.

 _Barney may have been..._

No, he couldn't let that guilt take him over, not now. Focus... he had to focus and find the way out of this nightmare. He had to find Lang and Wanda and get them to safety. Before it was too late.

 _Laura_. It was the image of the face he loved more than any other that he attempted to focus on the most. He couldn't lose the image of her smile... He clung to it, willing it to give him the strength he needed to beat the hallucinogenic gas wreaking havoc in his system, to see through his darkest dreams, to be able to push forward to find his teammates. He had to keep going...

At the top of the stairs behind him, a masked figure watched the archer carefully, a gleam in his eye as he twirled another arrow of his own between his fingers.

 **Author's Note** : So, Peter's got a bit of a clue here! At least a little bit of a lead to go on. And Clint's beginning his spiral downward, unaware of Fennhoff's threat against his life. Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated, as always. Part two should be up in a week or so! Thanks, guys! Until next time!


	22. Chapter 22- To Clip an Archer's Wings, 2

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Hey, guys! Thank you for all of your reviews, favorites, and follows, they mean a lot! Sorry about the bit of a wait since this chapter and the next one's been done for a little while, but my mom broke her arm not too long ago, so between work, I've been caring for her a lot. So writing/putting everything together time's been a little fewer and farther between lately. So I apologize for that! But the next chapter is done, and I'm planning on posting that probably next week sometime. Another couple layers involving Fennhoff's relation to the Avengers are added here, as is a little father/son sort of moment for Tony involving Peter. Just like last time, an **important note** : while based on and drawn heavily from the comics, Clint's backstory has been changed and added to/detracted from in order to fit this Newton universe. There is also a different take on his rivalry with Barney, so nothing is exactly comic compliant. His meeting of another Avenger is also not canon compliant so it fits this Newton-verse. Also like last time, the subtitle of this chapter is taken from the lyrics of Red's "Already Over". Many many many thanks to **CoffeeRanger** for the long hours spent figuring out our favorite archer's backstory! All right, I won't keep you any longer, so with all that said, enjoy!

 _Chapter 22- To Clip an Archer's Wings, Part 2: Take All You Want From Me_

 _"Look. I appreciate your concern, but I really don't need to see a therapist."_

 _Nick Fury nodded slightly as he leaned forward on his desk. "I know it might be a hard possibility to think about. But it's been a very long time for you. It's going to take some time to adjust. Things are much different now than you're used to. You've lost a lot, more than a lot of people have or can't begin to imagine. There is nothing wrong with having a little support by someone who knows how to do that as you try to navigate it all. It's not weak."_

 _Steve sighed as he leaned back in his seat. He couldn't argue that. The world had been a real shock to the system when he'd woken up. He'd almost been grateful, in a strange way, for the recent attack on New York. Fighting against an enemy army had been something familiar he could hold on to, something that_ hadn't _changed since his time. A distraction from the overwhelming change and loss he was still trying to begin to process. Leading an army against a dangerous enemy was something he could do. Even if that enemy army had been aliens from outer space._

 _But now… everything was quiet again. Too quiet. Which meant his mind was back on overdrive. The dark corners of his brain were much too active with the pain of trying to adjust to a place, to a time, he didn't belong in, the pain of being the last survivor of everyone he'd ever known and loved- the Howling Commandos… Howard Stark… Bucky Barnes, who'd been declared MIA- in a time where he knew and had no one…_

 _At least, almost no one. He still, somehow, had a little bit of Peggy to hold on to, if he could bring himself to reach out to her. But he knew that even she wasn't the same._

 _"I'll think about it," the Super Soldier finally muttered. He didn't want to commit. After all, what therapist could get through_ his _problems? There weren't many who could even pretend to understand._

 _"Please do," Fury said gently, his brow furrowed. "Before it feels like this is all too much for you." He reached into the pocket of his black trenchcoat, pulling out a business card before sliding it across the desk toward him. "This man has come highly recommended through the S.H.I.E.L.D. system. His office isn't too far from the base in D.C."_

 _Steve reached out and took it, flashing a glance at the bolded name at the top._

 _Edward Marlowe._

 _He'd keep it in mind. He slipped it in the pocket of his light-colored slacks, knowing the director would be happy with that, at least. "Is that all, Sir?" he asked._

 _Fury sighed quietly, his eye faltering as he nodded once. "That'd be all, Captain," he answered._

 _Without another word, Steve returned the action before he rose to his feet and made his way out of the office without looking back._

Edward Marlowe.

That had been a name he hadn't thought about for a while. He'd preferred it when he believed he wouldn't have to think about it ever again.

Steve let out a heavy breath as he wandered into the penthouse, leaning on the back of one of the couches as his gaze passed over the glowing map of the city Vision was working with. "Any luck narrowing down a location?" he wondered.

The AI gave him a sad smile. "It would be simpler, faster, and more effective if I had something to track Mr. Stark," he muttered. "But with the information that Natasha is able to provide me with through the city, we should be able to determine some more likely areas to search."

The Captain glanced over at where Natasha was sitting on another couch with Sam, both poring over their laptop. It didn't surprise him that Fennhoff would block all manners of trying to find Tony. It'd be a simple enough task for him. And isolation was his specialty. It was one of his most effective techniques. If he got his victim alone… completely alone…

A slight shudder ran through his body as he lowered his gaze away from the screen. He understood it would take a little more time to try to track down the billionaire, but the impatience to do so continued to gnaw away at him. Every minute that Tony remained in Fennhoff's clutches was another minute of damage that the doctor would cause, another part of their teammate they might not be able to get back. Time was off the essence.

Before he could say any of his racing thoughts aloud, he pulled his untraceable flip phone out of the pocket of his jeans when it vibrated with an incoming text message. A quick glance told him it was Peter. His brow furrowing, he opened it.

 _Can't reach Happy or Rhodey… Can I call you, Mr. Rogers? Captain Rogers? Mr. America?_

Steve couldn't stop the hint of a smile that tugged at the corner of his lips, shaking his head briefly at the names the teen had thrown at him. He knew the Colonel was meeting with some trusted people at the police station to try to get more help, and Happy and Pepper had taken their foster dog and gone to handle some important emergency meeting for Stark Industries, so that they couldn't be reached didn't concern him.

What did, however, was that someone needed to be reached when the teen was supposed to just be out with a couple of friends from school.

Instead of texting back- why Peter hadn't just called him to begin with, he wasn't sure- the Super Soldier dialed him back, and he wandered away from where the other three were gathered as he brought the phone to his ear. The web-slinger answered on the first ring.

 _"Oh, thank God. Sorry, Captain Rogers, I wouldn't call unless it was necessary…"_

"It's just Steve, kid. Remember?" Steve said gently. "What's going on?"

 _"Right, yeah. Sorry about that,"_ Peter mumbled. _"But, uh, yeah… I could use your help with something."_

Steve came to a stop, his eyes narrowing. He thought back to the conversation he'd just had with Bucky. Fennhoff wasn't already trying to get the teen as leverage against Tony… was he? "What's wrong?" he asked. "Are you in trouble?"

 _"No? Well, I mean, not really, no. Not anymore…"_ Peter answered.

"What happened?" the Super Soldier pressed, his body tense. Why couldn't the kid just get to the point?

 _"Y'know, it's kind of a funny story,"_ the web-slinger told him. _"I think… well, I think I might have some sort of lead on Mr. Stark. Kind? And… there's a body…"_

Steve's heart skipped a beat. _A lead on Tony?_ He couldn't allow the kid anywhere near Fennhoff or anyone working for him, but… That was when the last sentence registered. "A _body_?" he repeated.

 _"No, no, no!"_ Peter groaned. _"I didn't mean that, Steve… It's not a body, exactly, it… It's a long story, but it's, like, an android… It looks like a body, but I swear it isn't…"_

The Captain tuned out the rest of the fifteen-year-old's ramblings. A lead to Tony. An android. It had Fennhoff written all over it. But how did that android find the kid? How did _Fennhoff_? Something like that couldn't have been random… The doctor never did random. "You're sure you're not in trouble, Peter?"

The web-slinger stopped abruptly. _"No, I'm not,"_ he said, his tone wavering a bit. _"I know I should have talked to one of you before doing anything, but… well, this was really personal, and I didn't know if there was time to wait, and I tried to figure out what was going on… though I still really don't know…"_

Steve sighed, running a hand down his bearded face. "It's all right, kid," he assured him. "Sounds like you did well. Where are you? I'll come get you, and we can figure it out."

It would also give him a chance to speak with the newest member of their team to inform him that he was going to have to take him off the search and rescue mission for Tony and instead have him do something else for the billionaire. He wasn't looking forward to it since he knew it was going to go about as well as someone telling him the same thing when he'd been younger. But he had no choice. For the kid's own safety, and for Tony's, he had to keep him as far out of Fennhoff's reach as possible. And it already sounded like he was too close for comfort.

But before Peter could say anything, Steve quickly turned back to his other three teammates when he heard Natasha swear quietly but heatedly. "Give me one quick second, kid," he said into the phone as he walked over to the couch. "What's wrong, Nat?"

The assassin glanced up at him, concern on her face. Beside her, Sam let out a frustrated sigh. "We have a problem, man," the latter said. "Redwing's feed has been jammed. We can't see anything of Clint and the others. And I don't even know where he is."

The Super Soldier tensed as he glanced at the laptop screen. There weren't many people who could accomplish that, Sam and Tony had made sure of that when they'd created the drone. "What about the warehouse feed?" he wondered.

Natasha shook her head. "It showed Clint, Wanda, and Lang arrive, but since then, it's been a loop of earlier footage," she told him heavily. "I was suspicious when the comms started acting up, but now… there's nothing. No audio, no video. Someone's hacked into that, too."

The hair on the back of Steve's neck stood on end. "Do you think it's Fennhoff?" he asked.

 _"Fennhoff?"_ Peter's question came from the other end of the phone, though the Captain barely heard him. He'd almost forgotten the teen was still on the line.

Natasha inclined her head. "Who else do you think it'd be?" she posed. Though her tone remained cool and even, there was a flicker of fear she couldn't hide from her face.

Steve's gaze moved back to the laptop screen. A wave of unease passed through him. He knew very well what had transpired between the mad doctor and their resident archer in the past. "How would he know Clint was going there?" he wondered quietly.

That, neither or Natasha had an answer for. The understanding that no matter what it could be wasn't good passed between them.

"Steve. Before the loop cut into the live feed, I saw someone in that warehouse," she continued. "And the comms haven't been working at all for a while now."

The Captain's eyes narrowed. _Isolation_. "It was an ambush," he whispered.

Suddenly, the laptop screen flickered and darkened. Steve, Natasha, and Sam all leaned toward it to get a closer look. "Okay… that's funky," Sam muttered. "Can you bring it back, Nat?"

She hit a few keys in rapid succession, shaking her head slightly in frustration. "Nothing…"

Then, the screen flashed back to life, though instead of the quiet feeds of the exterior and interior of the warehouse, there were three separate ones playing simultaneously. All inside. Sam, Natasha, and Steve all leaned closer again. One was of Scott, who was frantically crawling into what appeared to be a freezer. The second was of Wanda, screaming in what could only be agony as her power flared around her. The third was of Clint, attempting to keep himself upright against the wall with a broken arrow in his leg. In all three frames, there appeared to be some sort of fine mist permeating the rooms.

 _Fennhoff's hallucinogenic gas._

"Oh, my God…" Sam murmured.

Natasha's gaze wavered as she watched the suffering of their three teammates, her eyes lingering on the archer as he nearly fell.

The Stone in the center of Vision's forehead flickered. The AI turned away from the map he'd been putting together, the glow fading as he looked at them. "Wanda," he said urgently.

 _"Steve? Mr. Rogers? What's going on?"_

Peter's worried tone brought the Super Soldier back to earth, and his hand tightened ever so slightly on the phone at his ear. "I'm sorry, kid," he said. "An emergency's come up that needs my immediate attention."

There was a slight pause. _"Is… is everything okay?"_ the web-slinger asked.

 _No_. But Steve couldn't bring himself to say it. "I'm going to try to get Happy or Rhodey to you," he replied instead. "I'm sorry I can't do it myself when I said I would, kid. But when I get back to the Tower tonight, and if you're still here, I promise we'll try to figure out what happened with the android."

 _"Oh… yeah, okay. Yeah. That's fine."_

Guilt bloomed in the Captain's chest. It wasn't fine. Peter needed his help. He sighed. "Kid, look, I-!"

But he paused when a line of text popped up on the laptop screen over the security feeds of their teammates.

Sam's eyes widened as he shook his head. "Whoa… Holy shit…"

Natasha sucked in a quick breath, looking up at the Super Soldier behind her with concern. "Steve…"

Steve's gaze didn't move from the screen as his heart sank.

A message, just for him.

 _Your move, Captain._

* * *

Arsen and Bao stood across the room from him, talking and laughing quietly to themselves as they set up what appeared to be a larger than normal chessboard. Tony glanced away from the security feed of Clint struggling against something that only he could see- though the arrow in the archer's leg was what he was most concerned about since he could bleed out or cause more damage to himself if he wasn't careful- to where the two men were working, seeing they seemed to be labeling some pieces. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, working for a crazy doctor. Against him. Sounded about right.

 _No…_

The billionaire grit his teeth as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shake that thought from his mind. Bucky was who knew where… Arsen was only his lookalike… and Steve…

He let out a shuddering breath. After what had happened in Siberia, he was fairly certain he and the Captain were no longer friends. But they didn't hate each other… At least, even with the whole issue surrounding the death of his parents, he didn't hate Steve. He'd done what he'd thought was best at the time. And Steve had tried to send him an olive branch, even if he hadn't been able to fully accept it yet…

And while he didn't fully understand why the Super Soldier would, his captors had said they'd seen Steve looking for him. He still wasn't quite sure if he believed it, but… they'd said the same about Clint… and now the archer was trapped in his own living nightmare, being led straight to slaughter.

Because of him.

He didn't know why… He wasn't worth the risk his former team, the people he'd once considered friends, faced while searching for him. He wasn't worth _this_ …

A quiet _ding_ came from where the other two men were gathered, and Arsen pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. "Footage from that android, boss," he announced, glancing over at where Fennhoff was watching the security feed intently. "Looks like we lost another one. The kid must have destroyed it."

Despite that news, the doctor smiled. "Good. Send that along to me, I am certain there will be something of use there," he murmured. "Something that'll trap our little spiderling in a web of his own. And once that is complete, I will take the appropriate measures to make certain our adversaries cannot make good use of it."

Tony's blood ran cold. Spiderling… _Peter_?

He slowly looked over his shoulder at the old man. "What have you done?" he whispered.

Fennhoff met his gaze, and he inwardly shivered when there was a look on the doctor's face he couldn't quite place. "I do not believe that is any of your concern, Mr. Stark," he said, turning back to the television.

 _Not his concern?_

Tony's hands started to shake. He thought back to the day that building by the harbor had exploded… _how long ago had that been now?_... to how Peter had been with him when Arsen had attacked. Had the kid's mask been on or off…? He couldn't remember now…

But he knew he'd made a misstep, a mistake. The throbbing in his side from the gunshot wound was a constant reminder of that. He'd risked his life for Peter. To protect him. Fennhoff and his cronies would know the web-slinger was important to him, too…

Was that why the kid was being blamed for his supposed death?

If he'd made Peter a target, too… if he'd put him in danger, too…

" _What_ have you done?" Tony snapped. "I swear to God if you put one hand on that kid…"

"What would you do exactly, Mr. Stark?" Fennhoff wondered pleasantly, turning to face him completely. "It should be of no significance, to you."

 _No real significance…_

A quiet voice in the back of his head told him to just stay quiet, to not show anything more that would give the doctor any more ammunition to use against him. But a larger, more stubborn part of him couldn't just sit still. Not when the kid was being threatened. Tony pushed himself to his feet, a little unsteady as he nearly stumbled when his equilibrium nearly gave way. Though a bit lightheaded, he still began to make his way toward the old man, who simply smiled at him in return.

But he didn't get far when a strong arm grabbed him from behind and turned him around. The billionaire saw a brief flash of dark hair and glint of metal before a hard fist connected with his cheek. It wasn't as hard of a hit as it could have been, he noted, but he didn't have time to dwell on it before Arsen's metallic hand landed solidly in his stomach. This hit was harder, and Tony collapsed back to his knees and wrapped his arms around his throbbing midsection, coughing forcefully as he tried to catch his breath while his left cheek and side of his jaw throbbed.

Fennhoff chuckled as he reached out, lightly patting his captive on the back in a consoling, comforting manner. "There, there. It is all right, Mr. Stark," he muttered, seemingly attempting to reassure him. "For now it is simple observation, that is all. Though since this boy clearly means something to you, I would strongly advise you keep your behavior in check if you do not wish it to be more."

Tony didn't have the breath to answer, instead gasping in response as he leaned forward to rest his hand on his arm on the floor. He could hardly think straight after the hit that rocked his skull. Though he didn't think the recovering gunshot wound had been hit by the punch, it had still been close enough where each gulp of air was agony. His body shook, his muscles were tight. His hand curled into a fist.

 _… Peter… I'm sorry… I'll do whatever I have to do to protect you… I promise…_

* * *

Clint pushed off whatever he'd found for support- the wall of the warehouse, he reminded himself- and took a couple tentative steps. Though not the sturdiest, his leg held. But he hesitated. The gas was still entering the space, and he wasn't sure what he was going to see once he opened his eyes. No matter what it was, he had to remember it wasn't real...

Then, he grunted when the building trembled around him again, the force sending him sprawling to the floor. His bow and arrow skidded away from him. He hissed when his left leg connected with the hard ground, sending waves of agony up through his hip. He could only hope the arrow hadn't moved.

 _... Wanda..._

Clint took a deep breath, hesitating for a moment before he slowly opened his eyes since he needed to find his weapon and continue onward to get them all out.

But instead of the warehouse floor, he found himself on the sweeping, darkened lawn of a massive double-story mansion. His wide gaze passes over the evenly-spaced Greek-inspired columns at the entrance up to the countless empty, dark windows. There was no life left in the place.

Then, his eyes landed on an area on the lawn not too far ahead of him. Two large spots of crimson, one a little bigger than the other, so dark they were almost black in the night.

His blood ran cold as guilt rose up within him and threatened to swallow him whole from the inside out.

 _... Why...?_

 _It's just the gas... It's not real... It's just the gas..._

After Barney and Simone had left Carson's Carnival, he had trained under Buck Chrisholm like his brother had to learn his way around a bow and arrow. He was able to hit a target at a great distance, sometimes over his shoulder, or while doing an acrobatic act. He could shoot multiple arrows at once or in rapid succession, so quick and fluid that he could fire many in seconds. And various other trick shots with special trick arrows his new mentor had taught him over a few year period. Over that time, he could see what Barney had respected in the older man. If there was any honor to be had among those thieves, it was Buck who had the most of it to give.

After the carnival had finally reached its inevitable collapse- a combination of low attendance, lawsuits, and investigations- he'd stayed with Trick Shot since he'd really had nowhere else to go, and the older man had been kind enough to let him stay with him. Though that had come on the one condition that he helped his former mentor with his operations.

Clint's gaze faltered. The few years he'd spent with Buck in his lavish home- one that had been much too expensive to afford with just his measly carnival earnings- had been a trying time for him. It'd been a period where he'd lost himself, lost sight of what was important, and where he really hadn't known who he was. The double life he'd been leading had made that difficult. Because really, he hadn't known much about the other man after all.

It turned out that when he hadn't been performing for the carnival, Buck had been a problem solver, no matter which way that had been taken. For some, a hired hitman. For others, a vigilante. It hadn't mattered to him which side of the law a client had been on; all that mattered is that the fee had been paid.

And they'd certainly been getting more jobs since he'd been taken on as Buck's partner.

The archer had done many things in that time. Many of the things, most of the things, he wasn't proud of. Things he wouldn't bring himself to even think about. Things he had promised himself he would never do again.

Things he'd been brought to do when Loki had taken over his mind.

Clint sucked in a breath. He couldn't afford to go back there, to allow himself to slip into those memories and emotions. It was too dangerous. Not when there were so many other things threatening to consume him. He had to focus. The consistent throbbing in his left leg helped to keep him grounded. It didn't belong in any of the memories being dragged to the forefront of his mind by the gas and therefore gave him an exit from them.

Wanda... Lang... He slowly pushed himself to his knees, biting back a cry of pain when his leg protested the movement. He reached out for where his bow had landed. However, instead of meeting the smooth surface of the weapon, his hand landed in one of the dried circles of crimson that stained the grass.

He knew this house. He knew what had happened here...

 _"How many guards?"_

 _He glanced over at Buck next to him, both wearing matching black tanks and tight pants to allow quick movement and to effectively blend in with the shadows on the otherwise brightly lit lawn._

 _The mansion they'd been hired to infiltrate belonged to a notorious drug lord who distributed across the country. The leader of a rival, not so widely-spread drug and arms deal ring had paid them to take him out. They didn't pick sides, but a job was a job. And a job meant funds._

 _The mansion happened to be bustling that night, much to Buck's delight. Some sort of party for the drug lord's daughter. They could hear the loud laughter and music from where they were stationed at the edge of the border created by the lawn and surrounding woods. More noise, more bodies, made it easier to hide to blend in with the crowd of unknowns._

 _At least this target had it coming. At least this one had done something with his life that would justify what was coming for him. Unlike some of their other ones..._

 _He closed his eyes, banishing the thought. Instead, he thought about that nurse... Laura... he'd seen a couple times since he'd started working with his mentor. Maybe he'd drive out to her place once this was all over with, just to forget about what his life had come to even for just a couple hours..._

 _But he'd been asked a question._

 _"From my sweep of the perimeter, two at the door, three at the rear, four on the east front, three on the west."_

 _Buck nodded thoughtfully. "We'll take the door together last," he muttered. "I'll take the east, you take the west, then join me at the rear. Be silent and quick before any more guards inside can be alerted. Understood?"_

 _He nodded once, and the older man vanished into the shadows. Setting his jaw and steeling his resolve, he snuck closer to the mansion, keeping a sharp eye out for any of the motion sensors or light security snares they'd looked into before beginning this job. He made it to the shadowed side of the building, ducking into the bushes with his bow ready, just as two of the three guards stationed there came into view. He drew two arrows. Simple enough._

 _One. Two. In nearly a single fluid motion, both guards were down before they even noticed anything was amiss to reach for their firearms. Simple._

 _He gripped another arrow tightly, holding his breath. Where was the third one he'd noticed?_

 _He didn't have time to finish doubting himself before quick footsteps fell on his ears, and he caught sight of the third dark-haired guard hurrying over to investigate. A slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he loosed the arrow, watching as it hit its mark in the center of the man's chest and dropped him._

 _He hadn't taken an extra half-second to notice that the guard's gun hadn't been drawn._

 _After waiting for a moment to ensure that he hadn't drawn the attention of any other security, he stood and hurried toward the back of the building. As he passed the third guard he'd shot, he happened to glance down to sneak a look at his face- something he usually avoided doing at all costs whenever he was on one of these jobs; he couldn't afford to make them personal- and came to a dead halt._

 _The guard was still alive. Barely. His shaking chest as he struggled for breath proved that. But that wasn't what had stopped him._

 _The man's longer dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, revealing silver earrings. His face was deathly pale beneath the dark stubble and covered in sweat as distress and pain crossed his features. But underneath that was an often-mischievous smile he knew as well as his own, the laugh lines he knew by heart for he had helped to put many of them there..._

 _Cold fear rushed through him as his breath caught in his chest, his heart nearly stopping as his eyes widened in horror._

 _..._ Barney _..._

 _No... that couldn't be possible..._

 _Why would_ Barney _be..._

 _He dropped to the ground beside him, his bow lying forgotten behind him, as he checked on his brother. He set slightly shaking fingers on the side of his neck to check for a pulse. It was much too quick and weak as a fledgling's flutter as blood continued to pour from the wound in the older man's chest. The wound_ he _had put there._

 _He looked up into Barney's rapidly paling features, trying to keep himself calm. Tried to focus his attention on helping and not on the fact that it was_ his _arrow sticking out of his brother's chest, too close to Barney's heart for comfort. Tried to focus on what he should do and not on the fact that Barney's mouth hung wide open in an attempt to pull as much oxygen in around rapidly filling lungs. He couldn't help the older man by panicking._

 _"Come on, Barney... don't to this to me... Hang in there, man..."_

 _Barney's eyelids fluttered, though they didn't open. His gasps for breath were harsher now, much more uneven._

 _For the first time, he cursed his sharp eye and near-perfect aim._

 _Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to look at the arrow wound itself. The weapon had gone deep, remaining still with each rattling breath Barney took. He didn't dare touch it or try to remove it. That would surely cause more damage to the tissues around it or more damage to Barney's lung, and he'd bleed out a lot faster than he already was. He couldn't risk it. But he could make sure it stayed stable and tackle the bleeding._

 _He tore a strip off the hem of his tank top and then another, applying pressure with them as well as he could around the arrow. Barney hissed with pain, his mouth briefly widening in a silent scream. His back arched off the ground as his body tensed before starting to tremble. His gulps for air became much more frantic, his fingers reaching out, scrambling against the gravel beneath them for something,_ anything _, to hold onto. The grass and rocks around his torso were being tainted_ _crimson, nearly black in the night, his very life seeping into the ground beneath him._

 _A thin line of tears formed in his eyes as he moved his knee forward for the older man to weakly grasp. Barney latched onto it, though his grip was as weak as a month-old puppy's bite._

 _"Come on... just stay with me, man..." he whispered, pressing harder around the wound. " Don't you dare die on me, Barney... don't you dare..."_

 _Barney couldn't die. Not after everything they'd been through and survived. Not now that they'd found each other again. Not at his hands._

 _He just couldn't._

You promised you'd never let them separate us… you promised me…

 _His brother needed quick medical attention if there was a chance he'd survive. But that would mean alerting someone inside, or calling for help himself. And that meant blowing the mission. Buck would be furious._

 _Barney's breathing stuttered at that moment. He panicked, thinking that it was too late, that he was going to have to watch and feel his brother die in his arms._

 _"Please, Barney. Not now…" he whispered, heedless to the tears that were rapidly filling his eyes. "Please…"_

 _Barney must have heard him, for he began breathing once more. It was even more strained than before, barely there and with a gurgling undercurrent. But the important thing was that it was there._

 _At that moment, Clint didn't care one whit about the mission. To hell with the mission. Making sure to keep one hand applying the pressure, he began to reach for his phone. He just had to keep Barney alive for a little longer until..._

 _"Clint! What the hell are you doing, boy? Where the hell were you? Guards back there nearly alerted more!"_

 _He quickly looked up to see Buck towering over them, his expression darker than he'd ever seen it as he burned a hole right through him. He shook his head slightly, his mouth suddenly dry. "I... I had to..." he murmured, stuttering, gazing down at Barney before looking back up at his mentor. "I-I had to help...I-I couldn't leave…"_

 _Buck's gaze moved from him, his hands covered in his brother's blood, to Barney. There was a flash of recognition there, but no sympathy. His eyes remained hard, and if anything, became harder. "You little bastard..." he hissed, his lips curled in a snarl. "You little traitor..."_

 _Hiss eyes widened as his breath caught in his chest, the words a slap to the face._ Traitor _? "What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded. "_ Traitor _? What the hell do you want from me? I've done everything you've ever asked me to do and then some without question!"_

 _"Except for being back there when I expected and needed you to be, boy," Buck replied, his voice eerily calm. "And instead, I find you here with one of the people protecting who we were hired to take out. Or did you forget why we're here?"_

 _He lowered his gaze back to Barney, blinking his tears of fear and rage away. The older man's body was still shaking slightly, but his gasps for breath had stopped. He still breathed, though. His chest was still rising quick and uneven; his face ashen. His fingers hadn't released their light hold on his knee._

 _So many times growing up it had been Barney protecting him. When he was little, he and their mother had worked together to shield him from as much of their father's anger and frustration as possible. Even when he'd gotten older and had begun standing up to the tirades they all faced, Barney had done all he could to help and shield him._

 _The same had happened when they joined the carnival. He'd been so scared, his only comfort during that time being Barney. He'd looked to his brother for strength and for assurance that they would be all right, no matter what. Looking back, he now knew Barney had been just as scared as he was, but his brother had never shown it in a way that he would pick up on. Not only had Barney provided the stability he'd needed, but he'd also protected him from the others in the carnival. Not that many had gone out of their ways to be particularly cruel, but they had more important things to do than watch out for two homeless waifs. Everyone had work to do to keep the carnival running and not a lot of extra time. He and Barney had started lower than hired hands, earning their keep through hard work alone. As such, they had been expected to do the jobs no one else wanted to do. Barney had watched out for him in that way, taking the more disgusting and dangerous jobs on himself._

 _Now it was his turn to return the favor. To protect Barney and make up for the fact that it was because of him that his brother needed protecting in the first place._

 _"It's not just someone... it's_ Barney _," he snapped. "One of the messed up boys you took in and raised and trained." He glared back up at his former mentor. "Or did you forg-!"_

 _The pain didn't register until a few long seconds later. It was the force slamming into his left shoulder that caught him off guard, that shocked him, as he fell to the ground away from Barney. His breath quickened as the pressure spread down his arm and up his neck, nearly paralyzing him as his vision threatened to darken. Once it eased slightly, he looked down when he felt the hot trickle of blood on his arm to see the arrow in his shoulder._

 _He looked up again, shaking, with wide eyes in time to see Buck lowering his bow back to his side. He flinched, but couldn't move away through the pain, when the older man dropped to a knee beside him on the lawn, getting close to his ear._

 _"You can stay here to get caught or die along with your brother. It no longer concerns me," he whispered, causing him to clench his jaw tightly. "I expect loyalty, boy; when I tell you to do something, you do it, no matter what. You're on your own. If you do end up getting away from here, I'd best not see you again. Or the next shot will kill ya. I guarantee it. Am I understood?"_

 _He didn't answer, instead closing his eyes as he tried to focus on keeping his breathing as calm as possible as his shoulder throbbed in agony. He heard as the older man grunted with disdain before getting to his feet. His footsteps faded away, and Trick Shot disappeared into the night._

 _A moment passed before he groaned, reaching out with trembling fingers until they found Barney's cold, still ones. They stayed that way as he finally allowed the darkness that was pulling at the edges of his vision to consume him._

Clint gasped loudly, quickly raising a hand to his left shoulder. But there was nothing. No arrow. No blood. He let out a shaking breath. The only arrow was in his thigh, the near numbness serving as a reminder.

 _He had to get out... where was he... where was out... Wanda... Lang... Fennhoff..._

He still wasn't sure how long he had been passed out on the lawn of the drug lord's home, though he knew it had only been by some miracle he couldn't explain that he and Barney hadn't been discovered by the wrong people. So it couldn't have been long.

He still hadn't trusted himself to remove the arrow in his brother's chest. But the arrow in his own shoulder had to go. He knew how damaging such a thing could be, but he had no other choice. And so, after removing his archer's glove to use as a gag, he'd probed the wound, trying to determine where exactly the arrow had struck. He had almost passed out simply from that, but stubbornness kept him going. If he'd passed out, the likelihood of being found increased, and the less chance Barney had of surviving. Luckily, Trick Shot had been aiming to hurt him, not kill him. Therefore, the arrow was in a spot that made it easy enough to simply push through. Easy enough in theory at least. Not so easy in practice.

After his arrow had been removed, and he'd taken a few minutes simply to breathe through the pain, he'd managed to break into and hotwire one of the cars parked on the premises and carefully got Barney into the back. His body had been near to giving out on him after that. Barney had always been bigger than he was and, with one arm all but useless, it had required some interesting maneuvering to get his brother into the car. He'd driven straight through a security checkpoint, causing quite the disruption, but still managing to somehow get away before speeding to the nearest hospital. He'd pulled up in front of the emergency room entrance and flagged down a couple paramedics who'd happened to be leaving the building from inside the car to get help for his brother. He'd watched as they'd carefully rushed Barney inside the brightly lit building before driving away. He hadn't been able to stay, not when there'd been a high probability that the older man wouldn't make it due to what he'd done. The guilt, the sting of betrayal and abandonment, had been too much to handle.

 _Out... get out... now... it's the gas..._

The archer had driven straight through the rest of the night and into the next morning as he headed for the state line. He'd finally had to pull over into a rest stop sometime that afternoon, the pain and blood loss from his own arrow wound finally catching up with him as the adrenaline had worn off. He'd changed the hasty bandage he had made while at the mansion with the last few remnants of his tank top, clumsily tying it off with his good hand and his teeth. After passing out until late evening, he'd called the hospital he'd dropped Barney off at the night before to ask for any information, but since they hadn't been able to verify the family relation, they'd given him nothing.

Another full day of driving later and Clint had arrived at a smaller hospital, both the car and himself running only on fumes, the place where the one person he trusted to help him would be. He'd made sure to call her, just to make sure. Otherwise, he'd have just gone to her place. Safe to say, Laura hadn't been amused when he'd stumbled into the emergency room and just about collapsed into her arms half-dead- again- but just as she had the first time, she had tended to him with gentle hands and no ulterior motives. And, to her credit, with no questions about what he'd been doing to get an arrow through his shoulder. Those would come later once his emotions were a bit more straightened out and the anesthesia and pain killers wore off after a couple days under her care.

Though with some of her pull to help validate his relation to the older man, Laura had been able to ask the right people and pull some strings to get him a medical update on Agent Barney Barton. Clint remembered the surprise, but also the pride, at finding out that his brother had become an FBI agent after an honorable discharge from the Army, surmising that he'd been undercover as a bodyguard for the drug lord in effort to infiltrate and bring him down. And he'd almost killed him. He'd been relieved to hear that he'd gotten Barney to the hospital in time, barely, and he'd been expected to make a full recovery. Which he had.

But the archer had never sought him out after that night. Barney had turned his life around. He'd been a good man. And he... well, not so much. He'd done plenty with Buck, and would do on his own, that would easily land him on the older man's radar. And while they'd been brothers who had, at one time, relied fully on the other for survival, he could never have expected Barney to turn a blind eye to all the horrible things he'd done and let him walk free. No, it had been best that they'd walked their own paths. Had lived their separate lives.

Until those paths would crash back together.

If they hadn't... maybe Barney would have...

Clint put his head in his hands. Fennhoff's gas... That's what he had to remind himself was causing all this. He had to remain focused, to get out... _where was out... he couldn't get out..._ This is exactly what the mad doctor wanted... _Focus..._ His heart was pounding much too fast... he was panicking... it was too late... He was lost in his own mind...

 _... Too late..._

 _... Barney..._

The next couple years had passed much like the one's before them had. His readiness to take on jobs like he had with Buck had still been readily known and his information had even started to be passed around more and more. Many people on both sides of the law had wanted his help in solving their problems. There'd been no shortage of them.

Each life taken had been a part of himself dying as well. He'd moved around from place to place, never staying anywhere for too long, since he hadn't had a place to stay anymore. He'd actively avoided Buck, always keeping track of where the man was and what missions he was taking. He could never forget the man's threat. However, he had not avoided his former mentor out of fear. When it had come down to it, he'd always been the faster draw. Eventually, people had seemed to cue into the fact that he and Buck had bad blood between the two of them and so would not ask for one if the other was going to be anywhere close to the job.

During that time, Clint had also spent more and more time around Laura. He hadn't been sure at first why he'd found himself going back to her. Everyone else in his life at that point had been transient, either disappointing him or abandoning him. But not her. She had seen him clearly, she had known what he did when he was away. But somehow, she had still loved him and saw something in him worth fighting to save while he'd been facing his own battle for his soul. He hadn't been certain what it had been about her, but every time he was with her, it'd felt as though those parts of himself he'd killed, that he'd forgotten, had slowly been rejuvenated. When they'd gotten a place together, he'd felt like he could finally stop moving. He hadn't- and still didn't- wanted to be anywhere else. It had taken him a long time to realize and understand that that feeling had, and still was, peace. Something he'd never felt before.

It was for her that he'd chosen a side. That he'd only started taking jobs from people that were at least somewhat on the right side of the law, and he hadn't killed unless he'd absolutely had to. It had been the first step in a series of many in an attempt to save himself. To redeem himself. To prove, at least somewhat, that he was worthy to protect her and keep her safe. He had been able to return home to her whenever his assignments had permitted... a foreign concept, though one he had acclimated to relatively quickly... instead of spending long nights away from her since he hadn't been able to bring himself to face her after things he'd done. He'd been able to stare down his reflection in the mirror, and for the first time in quite some time, had not been repulsed by what he'd seen. He'd looked at himself and Laura and, for the first time, had seen a glimmer of hope for the future.

However, his activities had drawn some unwanted attention. Clint had known for quite some time that he'd been being tracked. Followed. Kept on record. And he'd always made an effort to make sure Laura never got involved in it. After all, her only crime had been, and still was, loving him.

At the time, he'd assumed it was simply the FBI after him, that maybe when Barney had been well enough to leave the hospital, he'd launched an investigation into who had nearly killed him. After all, he'd had his arrow in his chest to go off of.

But it hadn't been the FBI. Or Barney, as he'd found out later.

With his own observing into who had been following him around while he'd been out on a job when they hadn't thought he'd been looking, the team was headed by an agent named Phil Coulson, a man who hadn't seemed to exist in any known database that he'd searched in for him. He'd been given what were deemed to be false addresses, false occupations, and Phil Coulsons that definitely hadn't been the same man when he'd tracked them down. It'd been as though he hadn't even existed.

While it had irritated him beyond reason, the archer had also been intrigued. What had a man who'd belonged to some sort of federal organization that was so secretive wanted with him? He'd decided to find out.

What had ensued was an extreme game of cat and mouse that had lasted for the better part of a year. Every time Clint had been on a job, and every time he'd known for sure that the agents had been on his tail, he'd left a little calling card for them to find- a little sketch of an arrow hitting a bullseye with the word "Hawkeye" on it. It'd been his stage name when he'd been performing with Trick Shot at the carnival, as well as his alias when he'd worked jobs with him, and it had just stuck as a way to hide his identity. He'd sometimes stuck around to see how frustrated the agents would get when they'd find it, having arrived too late to capture or kill him, and they'd never disappointed in amusing him. Coulson in particular.

He'd gotten more daring in this game as time went on, having let Coulson and his flabbergasted agents get closer each time. He'd let them think that they were right about to snag him before slipping away yet again. There had been one time that had gotten a little too close for comfort when his leg had been injured during one of his jobs, and he'd had to hurt a couple of the agents in order to get away. But still. The game had never gone Coulson's way, as he'd never been able to get close enough to get one over on him and trap his mouse, even though he'd made him think so on a number of occasions. He'd rarely passed up an opportunity to smile and wave or flip off the agent on his way out. Coulson had never seemed to share in his enjoyment in those moments.

But toward the end of that year, Clint had admittedly gotten bored by their game, as well as worn out by what he'd been doing with his life. The constant moving with jobs he'd been taking on, even though he'd finally had a place to rest with Laura... the constant avoiding of those mysterious agents... He'd been done with it all. No more moving. No more fighting. He'd just been done with everything. He'd known what that meant he'd had to do, and it'd torn him up from the inside out since it'd meant he'd have to give up the best thing that had ever happened to him. He'd have to give up any plans for the life they'd wanted together that they'd had. He hadn't known if she'd ever forgive him since she'd stood by and fought for him for so long, and he'd decided to give up.

He'd been so tired. No more moving. No more fighting.

The archer's heart wavered. He'd accepted his final assignment- exposing a corrupt sheriff in some smaller town somewhere- and had said goodbye to Laura for what he'd feared would be the last time. He knew he'd never forget how she'd trembled while she'd hugged him tightly, begging him not to walk out the door unless he'd planned to come back. The desperation in her kiss as tears rolled down her cheeks when that was a promise he hadn't been able to make. The pain when she'd told him she loved him. And he'd walked out the door as she could only watch, knowing the action was as good as signing his own death warrant. He'd done terrible things, and he knew he was too dangerous to be taken alive.

Clint had found and detained the sheriff in the back parking lot of a tavern easily enough. The man hadn't put up much of a fight, almost as though he'd been expecting his arrival. Though it'd taken a while for the mysterious team that had been tracking him for so long to catch up that time. He'd sat with the sheriff, non-committedly listening to the older man tell stories of his wife, kids, and rather large family- no doubt in order to try to get himself off the hook- when Coulson and his agents had stormed the place, guns drawn and orders flying. He'd noticed they'd set a perimeter- one that normally he'd have no trouble getting out of and had many times- to prepare for anything.

The one thing they hadn't been prepared for was for him to set his bow on the asphalt, shoving it away from him, and drop to his knees with his hands raised and a grumbled, "About damn time".

He'd never forget Coulson's face as he'd approached him, as he'd stared down the barrel of his handgun aimed right at his forehead while the other men surrounded them. The head agent had so wanted to celebrate this moment, to relish this victory of finally catching his mouse. But he hadn't been able to manage the grin, or to boast. Not when his target had given in so willingly. Something, and to that day he still wasn't sure exactly what it'd been, had passed silently between them as both of their weary gazes had met.

 _"I've been given the order to put a bullet right between your eyes."_

Coulson's words echoed in his mind as Clint saw the man's determined eyes and set jaw flicker before his vision. His knuckles had been white with how tightly he'd been gripping his gun. The words had been void of any emotion. He'd made no move to fight the agent, had made no attempt to prevent that fate. He'd expected as much after all he'd done. It'd have only been fitting.

So, it'd been a shock to him when Coulson made a different call- to bring him in and let a man named Nick Fury decide his fate instead.

The archer hadn't struggled as he was roughly put in handcuffs and unceremoniously dragged to an unmarked black car. From the rough handling he'd received, he wouldn't have been surprised to find out the agents responsible for him had been involved in his cat-and-mouse game for too long. He'd questioned if these agents had really been part of a legitimate federal organization, but it had been too late as he'd been shoved inside and as Coulson had gotten behind the wheel and driven away a minute later.

It had been on the way to... wherever they'd been going... that the head agent had explained who he was. He'd belonged to some organization called the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division- a pain in the ass to say all the time, so they'd simply shortened it to S.H.I.E.L.D. He'd had no idea what the hell that even was, but with all the secrets, he'd figured it had to be important, especially when they'd blindfolded him so he hadn't been able to see the location of the nearest facility they'd been bringing him to.

Clint had had no idea how long that car ride had ended up being, having had no sense of time or distance. The next thing he'd seen, after being led through some sort of cold building bustling with activity, had been the infuriated director of the secretive organization.

 _He inwardly winced as he was shoved into a hard, unforgiving chair, making sure his breathing was as even as possible as the blindfold was ripped away. His arms cuffed behind his back protested to the treatment as he squinted around the large, white-walled room he now found himself in, empty save for his seat and the table in front of him. He could feel Coulson and another agent standing just behind him, though his gaze was focused on the bald, dark-skinned man before him._

 _He was standing straight with his shoulders back wearing a black trenchcoat and a black eyepatch over his left eye. His other was narrowed into a slit as it burned a hole right through him, the corners of his stern mouth turned downward._

 _It was obvious he was trying to intimidate him. And it may have worked on most people. Though unfortunately for this man, his ability to be intimidated had been lost along with his childhood._

 _"So. You're the man... this Hawkeye... who has been embarrassing and making my agents look like foolish amateurs."_

 _He didn't say a word, didn't move. The director's piercing stare was as unforgiving as the chair that was making his arms go numb._

 _Nick Fury made a quiet sound to signify that he was unimpressed. Or, at least, that's what he wanted him to think. His posture, the ever so slight upturn of his lips, said otherwise. Begrudging respect. "You know, when we first got the reports of some deadly Robin Hood running around like a vigilante, I didn't believe it," he continued. "How could one guy running around with a bow and arrow do so much damage and slip into the shadows like he was some sort of phantom? But boy, did you ever prove me wrong. You've got quite the track record! More than enough for me to order a bullet through your skull."_

 _He still gave him nothing, even though there was one detail in the director's statement that caught his attention. One guy._ Him. _Had they not known about him when he was with Buck? More importantly, had Buck stopped when he'd left him and Barney to die?_

 _"Don't get me wrong. I still won't lose sleep over putting a bullet right there." Fury lightly poked his own forehead, right between his eyes. He then reached into his trenchcoat and pulled out a handgun before setting it on his side of the table. Neither of them broke eye contact. "You've certainly given my agents a big enough headache. I've gotta say, the call Coulson made surprised me. But that doesn't mean I won't make a different one. Though with all you've done, I just have one question you need to answer."_

 _He remained silent. Anything he likely said would be a fine line between his life and death._

 _The director leaned forward on the table, his visible eye scrutinizing every inch of his face. "Just what side do you think you're on?"_

 _A heavy silence lingered in the air between them for a tense moment. He wasn't sure how he could answer that. Everything he'd done had been to help Buck, not mattering if the person who'd hired them had wanted their talents for good or bad. Then he'd continued alone, initially following the same guidelines. Then Laura had changed that, though while he'd only used his skills for good, he hadn't necessarily used the most legal of methods._

 _There was no good or bad, no black or white, for him. Only gray. That's what his life had always been. His brow furrowed._

 _"Mine."_

 _His quiet voice, while steady, broke the slightest bit on the one word, raspy from disuse. His eyes remained solely on Fury's, almost daring him to question him. Because it was true. Life had dealt him blow after blow. He'd never had his father. Both people he'd opened up to and trusted who had sort of filled that empty void had stabbed him in the back without a second thought when they'd had no more use for him. He and Barney were better off on their separate paths after what he'd done. Laura... he trusted her. She hadn't given him a reason not to. Much like his mother had been, she was someone he wanted to protect against the evils of the world; the evils of himself._

 _But other than her... There was no one. No one he could rely on. No one he could trust. The only one he'd been able to do that with- when it truly came down to it, when it really mattered most- was himself. It had always been that way, and it always would be._

 _Fury was silent for another moment, his face impossible to read. Though it didn't seem to take too long for him to reach some sort of conclusion. He raised his gaze to the agents blocking the door behind him and gave a slight nod. Coulson came forward and set a manila folder on the table between them._

 _"So. You're not picking sides. You're in it for you. Fair enough, Hawkeye. I can respect that." The director paused with a sigh. "Though what I don't appreciate is one of my agents being shot down."_

 _Dread began to claw its way out of him at these words. He'd shot, and from the sound of it killed, a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. He wondered why Coulson had even brought him in if that was the case. It didn't matter if he hadn't known the organization existed. Fury was going to get his chance to put that bullet in his skull like he wanted to, anyway. He was screwed._

 _Coulson then opened the folder to reveal a photograph. He waited a beat before lowering his gaze to it, knowing what he was going to see and dreading it. Just as he'd expected, a blond man was lying on the carpeted floor of what appeared to be a messy office, an arrow sticking out of his chest. Through his heart, by all appearances. Hell of a shot. Poor man never stood a chance. A slip of paper with dark writing on it, a calling card, was on the floor next to his right shoulder._

 _His brow furrowed. He'd done many jobs over the years, granted. But he didn't recognize the office, nor the man's deathly pale face..._

 _"Agent Ridley was one of our best," Fury told him. "Bright future. One he'll never get to have now."_

 _It was also a name he didn't recognize. He supposed the man could have used an alias, but... he hadn't forgotten many he'd hunted. He shook his head slightly. "All due respect to him-!"_

 _"It was one he wouldn't have gotten anyway, if I'd seen to it," Fury interrupted. He waited until his detainee looked back up at him with clear confusion before nodding at the photo and continuing. "He was a mole, working to steal our secrets for another not so nice organization called Hydra. So, in a way, this was a favor."_

 _Hydra. That was familiar. Though he didn't realize they were still around. But still, something about this wasn't right. He took a deep breath, set his shoulders, and started the other man down. "Then with all due respect to you, but I didn't-!"_

 _"I know it wasn't you, boy. I ain't stupid." The director nodded at Coulson again, the latter picking up the first picture to reveal another one underneath. It was a closeup of the calling card._

 _A hastily drawn bow and arrow symbol. The words Trick Shot underneath._

 _Buck._

 _"This happened right around the same time Coulson was picking you up," Fury explained. "This also tells me that you either have a copycat, a rival, or a partner. Wanna tell me which one's more likely?"_

 _But he hardly heard the other man. His gaze had yet to move from the photo of the calling card, one detail bothering him. He leaned a little closer. It was certainly his former mentor's insignia- he'd seen it many times, both when he was working with the carnival and when they'd been on jobs. Though there was something about it that wasn't right..._

 _Buck had always separated his alias into two words. Trick Shot. But this didn't have a space. Trickshot. It wasn't a mistake Buck would make..._

 _Was someone else emulating the other archer? But why?_

 _He flinched ever so slightly when Fury's hand slammed down on the table in front of him. "I'm gonna need that answer."_

 _But he shook his head slightly as he looked back up at the other man. "I don't know..."_

 _The director's eye narrowed dangerously. "If there's someone else running around out there doing what you did, I'm gonna need you to do better than I don't know."_

 _"I... I used to work with someone," he muttered. "But I've been on my own for the past couple years. I don't think he's doing... this anymore. At least, I haven't heard he is. And I don't think this is him."_

 _Another silence passed between them. Fury nodded to Coulson, who took the folder and photos away. He then leaned forward on the table. "Here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna offer you a choice, Hawkeye," he murmured. "And I want you to think long and hard about this since I'm only going to make it once. Am I understood?"_

 _He didn't say anything, but the director continued anyway._

 _"Agent Coulson is someone I respect. If he decided to disobey my direct order to kill you and bring you in instead, I trust he had a reason to do so. Even if I don't see why he saved your arrogant ass when you've been such a thorn in our side yet." He let out a long breath. "So here's what I'm proposing. I'm prepared to give you a shot. Just one. If you mess it up, that's it, you're done. But it's going to put you in a position to do something I don't think you've had to do yet, and that's to pick your side."_

 _He found he couldn't bring himself to look Fury in the eye, his gaze instead lingering on the handgun across the table from him. There was no doubt in his mind what would happen if he did anything that the other man found to be a "mess up"._

 _"Why?" he whispered._

 _It was a simple question, but one that had so many ramifications for him. No one had been willing to give him a shot, an opportunity to turn his life around, like this before. Not exactly._

 _The director's gaze faltered. "Because I think deep down, you wanna do the right thing," he said. "Even if you don't see it or have necessarily figured out what that means yet. I would much rather have your skills on my side rather than against us, and I think you'd make a decent agent. Maybe better, should you apply yourself to it." He chuckled quietly. "And if there is someone else out there running around like another damn Robin Hood, I'd like one on my team."_

 _He couldn't argue that point. He had to admit he was curious, both about S.H.I.E.L.D. and this mystery archer. Though he also couldn't say anything in response. Just like the last time he'd had a slim chance to do something more with his life. When he'd been too late._

 _He couldn't afford to make that mistake again._

 _Fury nodded to Coulson once again, and the latter approached him and set a light hand on his shoulder. He flinched away from the touch, though it wasn't harmful, and he felt as the agent unlocked his handcuffs. As soon as his arms were free, he hissed and brought them to rest on his lap, cradling them close to his body as he rubbed his wrists to get the blood flowing._

 _"Consider that a truce." Fury picked up his gun and stuck it back in his trenchcoat before he walked around the table and made his way toward the door. "I'll give you a couple days to think on that offer. You'll be given a cozy... well, it depends on your definition of cozy... room here while you do. No tricks. No escape attempts. I'll consider that a mess up."_

It hadn't taken him a couple days to decide on the director's offer. He'd only spent a couple hours in the containment room- which at least had a comfortable bed- before he'd asked the agents guarding him to ask to talk to Coulson or Fury. To tell them that he accepted. He'd been much too curious about this mystery archer, and if S.H.I.E.L.D. had the resources to track him or her down, he'd fully intended to use them. Buck had trained many people during his tenure as part of the carnival, so it wouldn't be the longest stretch that one of his students had been aware of what else he'd been involved with and had decided to take up the mantle if he had actually stopped taking jobs.

But it had been thoughts of Laura that had made his decision. He'd found the first truly good thing in his life through her, and it'd killed him to think he'd been throwing that away when he'd initially felt like turning himself in had been the right thing to do. That he'd been given the unexpected choice to live had only made him more desperate to get back home to her.

In his second meeting with Coulson and Fury, he'd made it clear to them that he would join them on the condition that his relationship with Laura and where they lived would be kept off of any sort of records. The same condition had applied to his children when they'd been born. While he'd chosen his side, and while S.H.I.E.L.D. served the side of good, he'd known by experience that there had still been people out for his head, including those who hadn't been pleased with him from his past. And he hadn't been able to let Laura risk getting involved in any of that.

To his surprise, the director had agreed to the condition. Compromise. A sign of trust. Of teamwork. Of acceptance. It had been something he hadn't been used to. It had taken him a long time to let his guard down around those he'd found himself working with, to accept that Coulson, Fury, and others had truly had his back and had cared about what happened to him. While he hadn't, and really still didn't show it, he'd had to admit it was a nice feeling.

Though as it'd turned out, joining S.H.I.E.L.D. had been the best call Clint could have made. His old bow from the carnival had been replaced by a higher tech version– one that could retract and could be easily carried or concealed. It could even be stretched out to become a close combat weapon if needed. While he'd had some trick arrows while he'd been a performer, he'd been given, and even had some input in, ones that put those to shame. There were ones that doubled as explosive devices, ones that emitted a sonic pulse or a high-pitched frequency or a foul odor, ones that released a smokescreen or a rope to trap. It had certainly been fun to play around with all of the different variations he now had at his disposal. It hadn't taken him a day to become as consistent and accurate with his new weaponry as he had been with his old.

For the better part of a couple years, Phil Coulson had always accompanied him on a mission. Oversaw him was actually a better way to put it. He'd often inwardly joked that the other agent had been his handler, although that was pretty much what he had been for all intents and purposes. It had taken S.H.I.E.L.D. about as long to trust him as it had for him to trust them. Though just because he'd understood didn't mean he hadn't found the supervision annoying. But over that time, he'd discovered that he hadn't really minded Coulson's company and had really come to value him as a friend. The evenings the two of them had gone out to a bar or gotten some dinner, sometimes with Fury tagging along, after a mission– or even just because– were some of his favorite memories from that time with S.H.I.E.L.D. Owning one or both of the other men at darts had been one of his best past times; Coulson had hated it and had spent way too much time trying to beat him, though he had never come close. Those evenings, those times out, had made him feel... normal. Like he'd been doing something that he was supposed to be doing, that was expected of him. Going out with friends for food, drinks, loud music, and games. What a concept.

When Coulson had died... a misplaced guilt, he knew, that he still carried it with him to that day... he'd certainly felt the loss. Hard. There was a void in him, one he'd never experienced before, but one that only the death of a valued friend and trusted confidant could bring. He'd grieved in private once Loki had been defeated and sent back to Asgard, only accepting comfort from Laura when he'd finally allowed himself to return home to her, Cooper, and Lila.

Though that had been the other thing from that time with S.H.I.E.L.D. that he'd loved. He could go home to Laura whenever he wasn't on a mission. He'd had a good job and a loving, healthy, welcoming home life. His life, for the first time since he'd been born, had been stable. He'd been able to focus on her; he'd been able to focus on raising their first, though unexpected, child; he'd been able to focus on prepping and planning their wedding and actually getting married; he'd been able to focus on being there for his growing young family when their daughter had been born; he'd been able to focus on making improvements to their fixer-upper house and farm they had all to themselves out in the country.

His life had been perfect.

Clint let out a shuddering breath, blindly reaching out for his bow again. His memories were pulling him down, he was getting lost... _where was he supposed to go? What was he doing...? Where was he...?_

 _Out... get out..._

 _... Where...?_

Not long before Coulson had stopped being his handler, the archer had gotten an unexpected call from Buck Chrisholm. For whatever reason he couldn't explain, he'd kept the old untraceable flip phone he and his former mentor had used to accept jobs, though it was a link to the past he should have let die long before. He hadn't been able to bring himself to answer it. The other archer's words from the last time he'd seen him, the threat against his life, were still all too clear in his mind. And then he hadn't had just himself to watch out for, but Laura and the kids as well. But he had listened to the message he'd left.

It'd been short. Buck had sounded exhausted. Weary. Not at all like the vibrant man he'd remembered. And all he'd said was he'd wanted to meet with him one last time. For old times' sake. A challenge of some sort had been offered.

Clint hadn't done it. He hadn't called him back. There'd been something in his former mentor's voice that hadn't sat well with him, and he'd been uncertain what he had had in mind for him if he'd taken him up on the meeting. On the challenge. Plus, he hadn't been able to risk the job he'd had with S.H.I.E.L.D., not when his life had finally been on the right track.

Though there'd also been something about Buck's message that had caused him to use the organization's resources to run a search on the other man. What had come up were medical records. A cancer diagnosis a couple years before. Remission. A resurgence. He'd been certain that was why Buck had wanted to meet with him for whatever he'd had in mind. And he'd been even more glad that he hadn't answered.

But there'd also been a very vocal part of him that hadn't been able to ignore what he'd found completely. Buck may have been a murderer, a thief, and an all-around awful person. But he'd given him a home when he and Barney had had none. He'd offered him a person he'd been able to count on, at least for a little while. He'd saved his life, once. And it'd only be right if he returned the favor.

So instead of agreeing to meet with him for whatever he'd wanted them to meet for, the archer had sent him enough of his own money to keep paying for treatments anonymously. So he could get well. And that had been it. With that one action, he'd eased his conscience and managed to free himself from Buck's debt for all he'd done for him over the years. It'd been done.

But that discovery had solidified for him that there was someone else who had been running around as a... tribute, almost, to Trick Shot, as a way to carry on the mantle. To pay homage to Buck Chrisholm. But what he hadn't known was who or why. There had been a few more cases with this new Trickshot that had popped up since he'd joined S.H.I.E.L.D., the victims always being high-ranked criminal offenders who had seemed to be untouchable by the law or public figures who had some dark and dangerous secrets they'd wanted to keep buried. A vigilante. Someone who'd seemingly been on their side, but there'd been no way to tell for certain. And still, they'd had no reliable leads to follow to get any closer to finding him or her.

A couple years after Coulson had finally let him off his leash and he'd been trusted to take and lead his own missions, the one that would end up changing his life had fallen into his lap. A KGB agent and assassin. Master spy. One of the most proficient and dangerous, if not the most so, graduate of what had been known as the Red Room in Russia. Trained by Hydra, also.

His orders– track her down and kill her before she could do the same to him. She'd had too much red in her ledger to take her in alive.

It hadn't been much different from his own situation a few years before. The irony of the situation hadn't escaped him. He'd had too much red in his ledger, too.

And much like had been done for him, he'd made a different call.

Clint still wasn't exactly sure what had made him make up his mind to go against orders. She'd certainly tried to take him out when she'd realized who he actually was after he'd gotten close enough to her while undercover. Maybe he'd just seen too much of himself in her – a person who'd been molded into something they hadn't necessarily wanted to be because they hadn't had any other place in the world. Maybe he'd just wanted to pay Coulson's act of mercy forward and offer someone else he'd been able to see potential in the same chance he'd had. Maybe he'd gained enough respect for her– as she'd had him– when they'd realized they'd reached a standstill against the other.

Or maybe... maybe because he'd been able to see she'd been afraid of something, and against his better judgment, he'd wanted to help her.

The archer hadn't found out what she'd been so afraid of until they'd been leaving to head back to S.H.I.E.L.D. with her in custody. They'd been ambushed shortly after reaching their transport... the rest of his team had been killed on the spot. They'd been tortured until they'd been able to escape by having to rely on each other. Hydra agents led by an older man named Viktor Ivchenko, some sort of doctor or psychiatrist, or so he'd been called. And it was then he'd understood exactly why she'd been so afraid.

Ivchenko had never harmed either of them physically, unlike his henchmen. No, he'd relied on tactics that had focused fully on their minds. Forced them to relive their worst moments and fears. Turned them against the other when their trust in the other had been barely existent at best. Made them question what had been real and what hadn't been. They'd learned a lot about the other in that confined, underground space. More than either of them would have been comfortable sharing in any other circumstance. And while the doctor had been attempting to drive them apart with his tactics– a gas that had caused them to hallucinate, another that had made them more violent, and a plain gold ring that would cause hypnosis– it had inevitably pushed them closer together since all their secrets, traumas, and fears had been made known to the other.

They'd discovered they had more in common than different. And it had helped them trust each other. Not fully – that came later, the inherent trust that the other would be there, watching their back, the flawless way they worked around each other, seeming to be able to read each other's minds. But it had been enough.

The only thing Clint had somehow managed to keep hidden was his family, his home. But it had been close. The walls he had constructed around that part of his life had been paper-thin, ready to crumble to nothing at any moment. He shuddered to think what could have come spilling out of him had they been in Ivchenko's custody any longer than they had been. He'd barely made it back to S.H.I.E.L.D. – safe in Coulson's office – before they'd collapsed entirely and the command to tell had caused him to tell all the information about Laura, the kids, and the farm to an understanding Coulson.

However, it had been clear to him that Ivchenko had wanted the target he'd been sent to kill – not him. He hadn't let the other Hydra agents harm her as much as he had him, which had worked in their favor since she was better able to fight the guards they had run into when they had escaped. And with her talent pool, it had gone much easier than if it had been him fighting. While S.H.I.E.L.D. had given him some proper lessons, most of his fighting style had been cultivated in the carnival and in more-than-slightly-illegal back alley fight rings when he'd needed information or just some petty cash while on a mission. The doctor had also spent more time alone with her, working with her mind, attempting to claim her. To steal her away from the KGB and gain her for Hydra. Clint had known how bad that would end up being for S.H.I.E.L.D. if the old man succeeded, and he'd been prepared to do whatever he'd have to to ensure it didn't.

It had been during one of her sessions with Ivchenko that he'd managed to escape from the rest of the Hydra agents, reclaim his bow, and take them out before he'd found her. The doctor had seemed rather confident in his conditioning of her– that smirk was something he'd never forget– and set her loose on him, assured of his success.

While it had been much like their first altercation, she had now been aiming to kill without curiosity or mercy. She'd even managed to inflict a deep stab wound in his back that he'd been sure would have caused him to bleed out eventually without any flicker of hesitance or recognition. She'd been the killing machine he'd been warned she was.

Clint shuddered. It had been a sharp blow to her head by him and frantic pleas for her to snap out of it– one of his arrows aimed directly between her eyes– that had broken the conditioning and brought her back. They'd then turned their attention to Ivchenko, but he'd fled once he'd realized his plan had gone south. And by that time, the blood loss had been starting to catch up with him. He'd only made it out of that facility with her help. Once outside, she'd applied a quick medical fix, enough to hold him over until he'd been able to get better attention, and waited with him after he'd called in Coulson for help. She'd had the chance to escape in case S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't agreed with the decision he'd made to spare her life, but she hadn't taken it. They'd been through too much together over the couple day stretch they'd spent in captivity. Fortunately, Fury had agreed since she'd saved his life, and she'd be a valuable asset on their side.

And that was how Natasha Romanoff had become one of his closest friends and one of the people he trusted most in the world.

The archer had looked into Viktor Ivchenko after he'd recovered enough physically and mentally, through there had been no record of the man. Natasha had offered that she hadn't believed that had been his real name, and with some help and Hydra files from Coulson, they'd found another name of someone who had been oddly similar to the man who'd captured them.

 _Johann Fennhoff._

A mystery, a ghost story, for S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Never caught. Never confirmed dead. Presumed birth date... _1882_.

Clint remembered the unsettling feeling at this information. There was no way it should have been possible that Ivchenko... Fennhoff... had been up and around or even alive. There had to have been a mistake in the files somewhere, or they hadn't been the same person after all... But they were. He'd known, and still knew, that they were. Though it was still a mystery that hadn't quite been solved. Something else was at play, and he was still just as determined to figure it out, find Fennhoff, and bring him down.

He nearly fell over again, cursing under his breath when the arrow in his leg was jarred a bit by the action. He failed to notice the shadowed figure looming at the top of the stairs above him, balancing a crossbow on his arm as he watched the struggling archer intently.

"Come to me, little mouse."

 **Author's Note** : All right, that's it for this one! More threads are being woven together with just how much Fennhoff's been involved in/ruined people's lives, Peter's getting drawn in more, and Tony's close to some more trouble. The next chapter, the last part of Clint's backstory, is done as well, so that'll be up soon! Thanks for reading, guys! As always, your reviews are much appreciated. See ya next time!


	23. Chapter 23- To Clip an Archer's Wings, 3

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit. I do own the OC in this chapter, however.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Hey, guys! Thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows, they mean a lot and keep me going! The next chapter is almost done, so barring any unforeseen circumstances, it should be up soon! Things are only gonna get worse from here for everybody... So, Peter's in a bit more trouble, Tony's not in very good shape, and Clint's still struggling with the gas. This is the final part of Clint's backstory and connection to Fennhoff. **Important note** , just like the last two times, while based heavily on the comics, Clint's backstory has been changed and added to/detracted from in order to make it fit in this Newton-verse. Also, this is a different take on his rivalry with Barney/a different take on Barney himself. So things are NOT exactly comic-canon. Many, many thanks to **CoffeeRanger** for all of her help and hours spent figuring out Clint and Barney's story, it's been an angst-filled blast! Also like the last two times, the subtitle for this chapter is taken from the lyrics of Red's "Already Over". I think that's about it... So with all that said, enjoy!

 _Chapter 23- To Clip an Archer's Wings, Part 3: I Offer Up My Soul_

"I've gotta admit, kid. I've done a lot of weird things for Tony through the years. But putting a body in my trunk is a first."

"At least it's not an actual body, Happy," Peter grumbled, helping the man fit the android in the trunk of his car before the head of security slammed the lid shut.

Happy sighed as he leaned against the back of his car. He crossed his arms over his chest as his gaze moved from Peter to Michelle to Ned and back. "You kids okay?" he asked.

The web-slinger glanced at his friends. As Michelle and Ned met his gaze, he could see they both seemed shaken but not harmed. "Yeah, we're okay," he answered.

"Good." The head of security glanced at the alley around them before he turned back to the teen. "So. What happened?"

"Well… we were having dinner, and the guy walked in," Peter explained with a slight shrug.

Happy arched an eyebrow. "And you just decided… what, that it was a good idea to follow him?" he wondered. "Did he do anything suspicious?" He frowned. "Or... _it_ , rather…"

"… Well, no, not really…" Peter smiled sheepishly. "I, uh… I…"

"So you randomly decided to pick a fight with this guy and happened to find out he was an android?"

"… No, not exactly…"

"He was causing some trouble at homecoming," Ned blurted. "And we recognized him from there!"

Michelle's eyes narrowed while the web-slinger ran a stressed hand down his face as he glared at his best friend. "Homecoming?" she repeated.

Happy's second eyebrow rose to join the first. "What she said," he muttered, his gaze nearly burning a hole right through Peter. "That's news to me. What happened at homecoming?"

Peter groaned, taking a few steps closer to the man. "Happy, can we _please_ talk about this a little later? Like, alone?" he hissed quietly, sending a brief, nervous glance back at Michelle. "It's… y'know… Avenger stuff…" He raised his voice a little then, not wanting to look more suspicious than he probably already did. "I just realized we totally ran out of the diner without paying, and I don't like dining and dashing, so…"

The head of security's frown deepened, like he meant to ask him more about what was happening right then and there and didn't appreciate the teen's efforts to try to get out of it. But realizing, like the kid, that they had to keep things of that matter confidential, he instead sighed and reached into his suit jacket pocket to pull out his wallet. "Here. Go take care of that," he said, holding a credit card out to him. "Stark Industries will cover for your friends, too."

"Oh, I have my own money…" Peter began, but when Happy didn't budge, he sighed and took the card. "Thanks, Happy."

"No. You owe me, kid."

As Peter began to walk toward the mouth of the alley with a chuckle to get back to the diner, he was very aware that the man was expecting his payment to be the unavoidable long chat they were going to have once they were in the car.

"Wait, I'll come with and help."

The web-slinger slowed his pace a bit, surprised, as Michelle fell into place beside him. As they continued along, they heard Ned ask in awe, "Were you _really_ Iron Man's bodyguard?" He grinned when he could almost see Happy's chest puff out in pride without even looking.

"Uh, so not that I'm unhappy you're coming, I can just, y'know… I got this," he muttered with a little nervous laugh.

Michelle smirked. "I know." But then, the look faded as she absently brushed a hand up and down her arm. "But, uh, we need to talk."

Peter glanced at her curiously as they paused when they stepped out onto the sidewalk. "About what?" he asked lightly, even though he knew exactly what it was going to be.

"What is going on with you? I've never seen you like this before."

That caught the teen a little off guard. They had just been attacked by an android in an alley, and _that_ was her question? "I… I, uh, I really don't know what you… what you mean…" he stammered.

Michelle rolled her eyes. "Please. I observe people, that's what I do," she muttered. "I remember you last year. What you did back there… catching the food inside, fighting the way you did in the alley, shutting down that android with the strength you did… You're different, Peter."

Crap. The web-slinger was at a loss for what to say. He couldn't tell her his secret, but he had to figure out _some_ sort of excuse to appease her… "Well… you know what they say about adrenaline."

"I do. And that wasn't it." Michelle sighed before meeting his gaze head on. "Look. I've been trying to figure out how to bring this up myself, or wondering if I was possibly mistaken, but after tonight… I really don't think I am."

Peter's every sense was on high alert, his body tense as his gaze passed over the sidewalk for the quickest escape route.

Michelle nodded slightly as if she'd reached some sort of silent conclusion. "I recognized your voice in D.C.," she told him. "At first I thought there was no way. How could it be you? But now, I have no doubt. I have to say, you're _really_ bad at trying to hide your voice, Peter."

 _D.C._ Dread rushed through Peter when he remembered going to rescue his friends in the Washington Memorial after they'd gotten stuck in the elevator when the alien bomb had gone off. Michelle had been on the ground since she hadn't gone on the tour, anxiously telling Spider-Man that her friends had needed help…

He chuckled nervously. "Oops. My bad… I'll have to, uh, get better at that…"

Michelle nodded. "If you want to keep your identity secret, you do," she quipped.

Peter smiled with a nod. But then, the look faded as his eyes widened in fear. "Please, Michelle. You _can't_ say a word about this to _anyone_. Ned's the only one who knows besides Happy and the Avengers." He paused briefly when she arched an eyebrow, not able to tell if she was impressed by that or not. "And you can't listen to the news reports. To what they're saying about me. No matter what it is, I _didn't_ kill Mr. Stark… He's not even dead…"

"Calm down, dork." Michelle gave him a faint smile. "I won't say anything. And… I know you didn't. It seems kinda weird that you're being blamed for what happened at the harbor, but… you're not a killer. I mean, obviously, if Stark's still alive…"

The web-slinger could have cried in relief. "Thank you… After only hearing yourself get blamed all the time, it's nice to know someone else believes me," he murmured.

Michelle nodded. "I do." Her brow furrowed. "So… how did… _this_ happen?" she asked, gesturing to him. "How did you become… _you_?"

"it's kind of a long story, but I will say it had to do with a radioactive spider."

"A radioactive spider?" Michelle repeated in disbelief.

Peter laughed. "I guess it sounds crazy, and I'll definitely tell you all about it another time," he said. "Though I have to also say, thanks for your help with that android back there. Seriously, you were awesome!"

Michelle allowed herself a grin at that as she shrugged. "Not a problem. I didn't do much, but if you ever need someone to get your ass out of trouble again…" The cheerful look faltered. "Peter, are you in some kind of trouble? I mean… an android attack isn't the most normal thing to happen to a person."

The teen sighed, pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. "I really don't know what's going on," he replied, shrugging helplessly. "It seemed like Mr. Stark was the target of the attack down at the ferry port, so… I don't know what that means yet. Or why I'm involved. I just know we have to find him." He tried to give her a small smile. "Should we go take care of that check so Happy doesn't have to be stuck with Ned for too much longer? One can only be subjected to so much Ned at a time."

"He seems too grumpy to be called Happy." Michelle laughed as they began walking again, silent agreement about their third companion shared between them. "Oh, by the way, Peter. My friends call me MJ."

Peter glanced over at her. If fighting an android in an alley together didn't make them friends, he didn't know what would. He grinned. "MJ, huh?" he wondered as he held the door of the diner open for her. "Good to know." He had to admit, with all the craziness going on, it was good to have another friend he could trust.

Before he could follow her inside, the web-slinger paused and glanced back at the alley. His eyes narrowed as a nagging feeling in the back of his mind told him that something was _off_ … He just didn't know what.

"Coming, Peter?" Michelle asked.

The teen looked back at her before smiling. "Yeah, coming," he answered. The look faded when she turned away as she headed toward the counter, and he cast one last glance in the direction of the alley before following after her.

* * *

Tony groaned as he straightened up, his body shaking as he turned back to the television screen in front of him. He tightened his arm around his stomach and clenched his jaw, which sent a jolt of pain through the left side of his face as the wave of nausea he'd been battling for the past however many minutes after Arsen's punch surged again. It fortunately waned a bit as he helplessly watched Clint struggle toward a set of stairs on the security feed. Blood. The archer was losing too much blood from his leg…

"I believe that I have all I need from the spiderling's android feed," Fennhoff was murmuring to his henchmen, almost like background noise. "Take care of it for me."

"Certainly, Doctor," Bao replied just as quietly through with too much enthusiasm for his liking.

The billionaire kept his weary hazel eyes on Clint, watching as he began to try to make his way up the stairs. _No… the other way… you're going the wrong way… Stop wasting your strength…_

A sudden thought occurred to him, one that caused dread to pool in his stomach as he let out a mirthless chuckle. "Fennhoff!"

The quiet conversation stopped. "Yes?" The doctor sounded as annoyingly pleasant as always, but also a bit irked that his entertainment was being interrupted yet again.

Tony slowly glanced over his shoulder at the old man. "It wouldn't have mattered what I would have said to your offer… would it?" he asked quietly. He dreaded the answer, but he had to know, he just _had_ to. "You still would have found some loophole and killed Clint… either way…"

A smirk spread across Fennhoff's face, and the gleam in his eye told the billionaire everything he needed to know. "Perhaps," he murmured. "Remember, Mr. Barton has taken something of high value from me, and while I have returned the favor, being even is something I do not pride myself on. You always must be one step ahead if you wish to go anywhere in this world, Mr. Stark. Although, his fate was sealed the moment you did not accept my offer in time."

Tony looked away from him, letting out a shaking breath and whispered curse. What could have been so valuable that was worth Clint's life? He couldn't bring himself to look at the television, at his friend's suffering.

It was his fault… all his fault… he could do nothing… he couldn't save him…

But he could, and would, try everything within his power… no matter what it took… to damn well make sure no one else… Peter… Pepper… Rhodey… Happy… even Steve… fell into the doctor's web. He wouldn't let anyone else die for him.

 _… Clint…_

"Ah. He finally decided to do what he is supposed to do. It took him enough time…"

Despite how he didn't want to, Tony felt his gaze move upward as if pulled against his will at the almost frustrated tone of the doctor's voice, watching as Clint stumbled at the top of the staircase he'd struggled up before falling to his knees. He heard some shuffling from Fennhoff behind him before his lightly accented voice filled the small room. An order.

"Move in now."

 _"Yes, Doctor,"_ a flat voice with no feeling that he didn't recognize replied, coming in through some sort of communication device.

The billionaire spared a glance at him over his shoulder, seeing the doctor's eyes were on the television with rapt attention, before turning his gaze back to the screen himself. His eyes widened when he saw the dark figure, appearing to be holding a large weapon of some sort, moving toward the vulnerable archer.

"Do it now," Fennhoff continued with poison in his tone. "No delays."

 _"Yes, Doctor."_

Tony's heart raced as he shook his head slightly, his breath catching in his chest. "No…"

* * *

Clint hissed with pain as he continued to blindly reach for his bow, his breathing labored as he attempted to slow his racing heart. Each beat sent the gas more quickly through his system, each pulse dragged him down further... he was lost... he wasn't sure where he was...

 _... Natasha... where was Nat... Barney..._

 _... Fennhoff..._

The next few years after meeting the beautifully deadly assassin had passed rather uneventfully, at least as uneventfully as it could be with Natasha as his partner for missions. It had lightened his heart to watch her open up around her new S.H.I.E.L.D. teammates as she'd joined him, Coulson, Fury, and a new rookie agent named Maria Hill for their evening outings. He'd learned that the former KGB assassin could hold her liquor, play a mean game of pool, and had the best poker face he'd seen in a long time. Since she'd had nowhere to go for a big chunk of that time, the archer had opened his house to her, and Laura had welcomed her into the family with open arms. Even Cooper and Lila had taken to her pretty quickly, even starting to call her "Auntie Nat" soon after that.

It had been clear to him that Natasha had never had a real family of her own before. She'd shrink away from any sign of warmth or affection for quite some time, she hadn't been sure how to handle compliments or concern shown to her, and she'd withdraw when the children would address her with their new nickname for her. Though it had been his little girl who had finally managed to start cracking that tough exterior and melt that cool heart. He'd often find them sitting close together and playing dolls, reading, watching a movie, coloring, or playing with makeup. He'd wished many times that Tasha could experience the joys of motherhood, to have a little girl of her own, and he'd always regretted that her close relationship with Lila would be the closest she could get to that. But at least his daughter had given her that.

But it had been after a mission in Budapest with his partner that had changed his life forever.

Clint's breathing quickened as his fingers finally managed to reach his bow and curled around it. He clutched it to him tightly. A lifeline.

But it was still too late... much too late... he was lost... with no way out...

He and Natasha had just returned to S.H.I.E.L.D. when that blasted untraceable phone from his past he still hadn't gotten rid of had notified him of a text message. It had been a long time since he'd gotten any activity on it at all– any requests for jobs had fizzled out quite some time ago, and he hadn't heard from Buck since he'd funded his medical care. He'd hesitated only briefly before checking it.

It had only contained four short lines.

A location– a known dive bar downtown.

A day– Saturday.

A time– 10:30 p.m.

And two initials– B.B.

The archer's blood had gone cold. _B.B._ He'd immediately been transported back to his childhood at home with his abusive father, to his days as a teen in the carnival. Whenever he had wanted to leave a message for his brother, he'd always signed it as C.B. He'd been young and stupid, thinking it'd been cute and secret spy stuff. But for whatever reason, the older boy had always reciprocated.

 _B.B._

 _Barney Barton._

It hadn't taken him long to send a one-line message back.

 _I'll be there. C.B._

Clint had had no idea what his brother could have possibly wanted to meet with him about. Last time he'd seen him, two paramedics were rushing him into the hospital strapped to a stretcher, near death because of the arrow he'd put into his chest. They'd never had a necessarily bad relationship, but what if Barney had finally realized he'd been the one who'd shot him? What if he'd planned to arrest him? What if it'd been something else entirely?

Either way, he'd had to find out. And it'd had to have been off S.H.I.E.L.D. record until he'd known what was going on.

When Saturday had rolled around, Natasha had refused to let him go alone in case it was some sort of trap. He'd finally agreed to let her come along on the condition that while his brother could see them together, he'd talk to Barney alone. She hadn't liked it, but she'd gone along with it.

They'd arrived at the dive bar downtown that had been specified in the text at exactly half after ten. Right on schedule.

 _He stepped into a cloud of cigarette smoke as soon as he opened the door, turning his face away as he entered the small, dimly lit space. Natasha stood close behind him as he surveyed the room, his sharp gaze passing over some loudly chatting, already drunk people sitting at a couple of the nearby tables, a local not so great band performing in the corner by the patched window, and more obnoxious drunks sitting at the counter._

 _But no sign of who he was there to see._

 _Part of him, he couldn't deny, was relieved about that._

 _"Do you see him?" Natasha asked quietly._

 _"No," he answered, his voice just as quiet. "But we'll give him a few minutes."_

 _They walked further into the bar before sitting in a booth in the back corner. Less attention. Though he could only imagine how many crimes had taken place at that table._

 _"You haven't really told me much about your brother," Natasha muttered, looking at him curiously._

 _He shrugged. "Not too much to tell other than what you already know," he replied. "I haven't even heard from him in years."_

 _"So you have no idea what this could be about?" she pressed with a slight tilt of her head, her straightened red hair spilling over her shoulder._

 _"None," he confirmed, shaking his head._

 _The assassin nodded once before she looked around them again as a louder round of laughter went up from a few tables over. "Do you want a drink?" she suddenly asked, turning back to him. She smiled slightly at the confused look he gave her. "I can feel how nervous you are from here."_

 _Despite himself, he chuckled. "You know me too well... Sure. Why not? Get something for yourself, too. We may be here a while."_

 _Natasha scrunched her nose at him before she stood up, her gaze lingering on something behind him for a moment too long to be accidental before she made her way toward the counter. It was then he knew why she'd chosen that moment to ask him about a drink._

 _His heart pounded in his ears, his breath quickened, every muscle in his body went taut, sweat pricked his forehead. He closed his eyes, attempting to calm himself down. After all, this was the man he'd grown up with. That he'd survived with. That he'd known almost as well as he knew himself, since they'd only had each other._

 _This was also the man he'd almost killed._

 _It was that moment he was glad he'd brought his bow, retracted and concealed in his black leather jacket. That he'd stashed a couple arrows there as well. That Natasha had her firearm and at least a couple knives on her somewhere._

 _He would be okay._

 _The bar was so loud that he felt more than heard the other man slowly sit across from him where his partner had previously been. Hesitant. He was as nervous as he was. For some reason, that settled him slightly._

 _A beat passed before he opened his eyes. Barney didn't look much different than the last time he'd seen him. His dark brown hair was tied back in its familiar ponytail, his silver earrings were in. He had a hint of a beard and mustache. There were dark rings under his eyes as he extinguished a cigarette in the ashtray. There were a couple more lines in his face than he remembered, making him appear a little older._

 _But it was so undoubtedly Barney._

 _A moment of silence passed between them as they awkwardly stared the other down. As much of a gift as the older had for small talk, it had never been a strong point with each other on a good day, and it seemed inappropriate in this specifically called meeting._

 _Then, his brother nodded toward the bar. "She's pretty," he commented._

 _A slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "She's just my partner," he said._

 _Before Barney could say anything more, there was some commotion at the bar. He quickly turned, following his older brother's wide gaze in time to watch Natasha twist a buff man's arm on the counter before kneeing him right in the groin. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve it, but the bartender was giving her an appraising look while the offending man doubled over, wheezing._

 _"Hell of a partner," the older man muttered, arching an eyebrow._

 _"Yeah, I got lucky." He turned back to face his brother, fidgeting with the salt shaker. "So. You come here often?"_

 _"No," Barney told him before nodding at the bar again. "Simone's cousin bartends here. Thought it was as... safe a place as any to talk."_

 _A warmth bloomed in his chest at the familiar name. He met the other man's gaze for the first time. "How's she doing?" he asked. "You guys still together? Put a ring on her yet?"_

 _At this, Barney smiled. "Yup, we're still together. But no, no ring... She's good, though. She's going for her Master's in criminal justice. Should be done in a couple years."_

 _"Glad to hear it. Tell her I say hi."_

 _"I will. She misses you." Barney hesitated briefly. "How about you? Girl? Family?"_

 _He shook his head. "Nah, no girlfriend," he muttered. It wasn't exactly a lie. "You know me. Settling down, raising a family... it isn't really my lifestyle." That was a lie, one he wasn't sure why he made._

 _A small, almost sad smile appeared on his brother's face. "Yeah. I do. It ain't mine, either. But sometimes, all it takes is meeting the right person."_

 _He saw Barney's gaze once again flit Natasha's way, and he had to hide a smile behind clearing his throat. "So..."_

 _"You're probably wondering why I asked you here," Barney began at the same time. Both of them paused before the older man continued. "I need your help with something."_

 _He leaned back a bit against the cushioned booth. "My help?" he repeated. "What, are you in some sort of trouble, or something? Need money?"_

 _"No. Not exactly. And no, I don't." Barney shifted position, resting his arms on the table. His jean jacket shifted ever so slightly, but it was enough for him to get a quick look at something underneath._

 _What appeared to be a black, retractable bow, which looked very similar to the one he carried, was hidden there. His heart skipped a beat._

Trickshot...

... was it possible?

 _"Have you... heard about Buck?" he blurted, quickly moving his gaze away from the hidden weapon._

 _Barney's brow furrowed. If he saw where he'd been looking, he didn't say anything about it. Or... perhaps he'd wanted him to see. "Yeah… he reached out to me after his first diagnosis," he said. There was slight hesitation in his voice, he noticed. "We had a long chat. It's a shame it came back. But from what I've heard recently, he's back in remission. He somehow got the money he'd needed to continue his treatments. Anonymous donation. He was afraid that he wouldn't have enough for the second round."_

 _The pressure eased in his chest slightly. Remission was good news, and he was glad he'd been able to help make that happen. Especially if their former mentor couldn't have afforded it otherwise._

 _But Buck had talked with his brother around the time of his first diagnosis... That was also around the time when this mystery archer had started popping up. Was it possible the archer who'd trained them had wanted Barney to carry on his name...?_

 _"Sorry. You were saying?" he prompted, glad his voice remained steady._

 _Barney nodded. "Well, as I'm assuming you now know, I'm in the FBI?" He raised a challenging eyebrow._

 _He couldn't stop his slight smirk. Right, Laura had helped to check up on him after he'd brought Barney to the hospital way back when. The other man had to know his brother had been asking about him._

 _A beat passed before Barney returned the look. "Anyway, they have me on an undercover mission. There's this... doctor. A psychiatrist at a local hospital. Real sketchy. I'm infiltrating as one of his assistants, but some things he's up to... well, let's just say it's not exactly legal. Or moral."_

 _He froze. Doctor? Psychiatrist? "What... what makes you think I can help you with anything like that?" he wondered quietly. He glanced around for Natasha._

 _Barney's smirk broadened. He lowered his voice as he leaned closer. "You don't think that a couple departments in the FBI know all about S.H.I.E.L.D.?" he posed._

 _He allowed himself to relax ever so slightly. Of course. "So... this doctor. What's he doin'?"_

 _"He's utilizing hypnosis to control his patients," the older man explained. "And I don't see much of this, but he's trying to create this... I don't know what, exactly, but this elixir... serum... something. Regardless, he's interested in various effects it has on the human body."_

 _That certainly sounded all too familiar. Except for the second part. "So, does he, like... experiment?" He cursed under his breath when his brother nodded. "What, is he trying to recreate Captain America, or something?"_

 _At this, Barney cracked a smile. "Doubtful. But that could damn well be what inspired him."_

 _He ran a stressed hand down his face, letting out a long sigh. "What's his name?" he asked. If it was Fennhoff or Ivchenko..._

 _"Faustus," Barney answered, starting to fidget with the pepper shaker. "He goes by Doctor Faustus. I don't' know his first name. I've looked him up in the FBI database, but there's nothing."_

 _Another alias. It had to be. There was no one else it could be. "That sounds an awful lot like someone on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar. A Hydra agent," he murmured, drumming his fingers in a quick, agitated rhythm against the table. His heel tapped the floor, mirroring it. "So what do you want from me? Information?"_

 _Barney shook his head. "I want you to help me take him down. Before he does something worse," he told him. He hesitated briefly. "I... may be doing this part under the FBI's radar. But he's too dangerous to just bring in. He's doing more shit than they thought. I can't just let it go."_

 _He arched an eyebrow as a sheepish look passed over his brother's face. If he agreed to this, he'd likely have to go behind Fury's back, too. While he highly doubted he'd be shot for a "mess up" at this point in his career, the director still wasn't going to be pleased with him._

 _But if he could help bring down Johann Fennhoff..._

 _Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table near Barney's. "When?"_

Clint couldn't catch his breath. His left leg pounded beneath him as he pushed himself to his feet, though he could hardly feel any pain– or anything– anymore. He stumbled back into... a wall?... for support.

 _No... no no no... He couldn't go there... no..._

 _He couldn't get out..._

 _Gas... not real... Fennhoff..._

 _... Barney..._

He squeezed his eyes shut, biting back a scream of agony. His vision swayed in front of him, his heartbeat echoing loudly in his ears. His body trembled. He felt nauseous...

 _"When?"_

He never should have asked that question. If he hadn't... maybe Barney would be...

No... He couldn't think about that... he had to do... something?... he couldn't remember...

As they'd wrapped up their clandestine meeting at the dive bar, Barney had informed him that he'd known the next time Faustus... or Fennhoff... would be alone at the hospital. The next day, his schedule after nine that night would be cleared. They'd have the area in the psychiatric wing where his office was located to themselves. And they could take him down.

Clint had agreed to meet with him there. Natasha, however, hadn't liked the idea of him going alone with Barney– someone she hadn't really known– to try to bring Fennhoff in or kill him. The doctor was too dangerous on his own, and it could have been some sort of setup. She'd asked that he'd at least tell Coulson where he'd be going, but he just... hadn't. Coulson had been on a mission of his own, so it'd been possible he wouldn't have even been back in time to help even if he had said something to him.

It had just… felt right. It had just been him and Barney together against all

odds.

Just as it'd always had been...

 _He tapped his foot impatiently, leaning against the smooth wall next to the back door of the brightly lit hospital. His bow was clutched tightly in his hand, a constant reminder of what he was there for as he glanced up at the seventh-story windows above his head. The psychiatric wing._

 _Fennhoff._

 _He glanced down at his watch. 8:57 p.m. Three minutes to show time._

 _A flicker of guilt ran through him as he thought about Natasha anxiously waiting for him to return back at S.H.I.E.L.D. She'd told him that she would send agents after him, as well as come herself, if she didn't hear anything from him by quarter after, and he fully believed every word. He'd just have to make sure he and Barney were in and out again by that time._

 _Barney... He just wished his partner had as much faith in his brother as he had. She just couldn't bring herself to. Which he couldn't blame her for – not with her background. But he knew better. He knew the older man. And he couldn't help but be grateful that he was starting to get his brother back._

 _Then, the door beside him opened, revealing Barney in a red and black tank top and black pants with his dark hair tied back. In his gloved hand was a bow similar to his own. He remembered what the older man had said when he'd first seen him in the uniform._

"We both have secrets, Clint."

 _"Are you ready?" Barney asked quietly. "Faustus is alone up there."_

 _He gazed back at his brother for a long moment... Trickshot, he was certain of it, though that was a conversation for later once they were rid of Fennhoff... before casting his gaze to the seventh-story windows again. "Yeah, I'm ready," he answered._

 _Barney gave him a small smile. "Let's go." He held open the door for him to step inside after one more glance around the dark parking lot before letting it close and hurrying up the nearby staircase. He lingered behind for only a moment before he began to follow the older man._

Clint's breathing was ragged as he gripped his bow even tighter. He turned, facing a nearby staircase as the lights continued to flicker at him. His vision threatened to fade as he went from seeing... the warehouse, he vaguely remembered... stairs to the steps of the hospital that would lead him straight to Fennhoff. He reached out a steadying hand, resting it against the wall to keep himself upright. His brow furrowed when he saw a figure standing at the top of the stairs of the shadowed upper story, waiting for him, watching him, until they turned away, their heavy footsteps starting to fade. He set his jaw.

 _Follow... he had to follow..._

He wasn't sure why, but his body felt compelled to do so. Cringing in pain when the arrow in his left thigh protested to the motion, the archer slowly began to push his way up the hospital staircase, each agonizing step at a time...

 _He stopped beside Barney at the top of the steps, watching as his older brother drew an arrow, notching it to his bowstring. His sharp gaze scanned the empty hallway ahead of him, every sense on high alert. Something about the heavy, eerie silence was... off. He could tell the other man felt the same way since his every muscle was taut._

 _"Which one's his?" he asked in just above a whisper._

 _Barney nodded to the door at the end of the hall. It was the only one with the light on. "That one," he answered just as quietly. "We'll have to be careful. He may look like a feeble old man, but..."_

 _Despite the circumstances, he allowed himself a small smirk. "I'm familiar with just how not a feeble old man he is," he murmured._

 _His brother returned the look. But then, it waned as his gaze faltered. "Before we charge in there, I thought you'd... well, that you'd want this back. I kept it in good condition for ya."_

 _He watched as Barney pulled another arrow from his quiver before holding it out to him. His face paled. He clearly recognized it as one of his arrows from before he'd upgraded when he'd joined S.H.I.E.L.D. The purple band around the shaft near the arrowhead was unmistakable. It had been one of his definitive marks since he'd performed with them in the carnival. He met the other man's gaze as he slowly reached out and carefully took it, seeing a look he couldn't quite read on his face._

 _His heart skipped a beat, envisioning the last place he'd seen the arrow– deep in Barney's chest as he'd nearly bled out on the drug lord's lawn._

 _The other man had known all along. Just as he'd always dreaded._

 _"I... I don't..." But his voice trailed off miserably. What could even be said that was adequate when presented with the sin of nearly killing the very person who'd ensured he'd survived for as long as he had?_

 _A sad look flickered in Barney's eyes before he offered a small smile. "It's all right," he told him gently. "I've had plenty of time to think on it. You didn't know. How could you have? Besides, I do remember hearing you in my delirious state. I know that this time, you saved my ass for once."_

 _At this, he couldn't help but smile, even allowing a little chuckle when the other man nudged his shoulder with his fist. A great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He studied the arrow for a moment longer before he slid it into his quiver with the others. It may come in handy in a tight spot._

 _Things were okay. They were going to be okay. He would handle Barney being on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar as the suspected Trickshot when they got to it, but for now, things were okay between them._

 _Just like they'd used to be. Just like they should be._

Clint let out a shuddering breath as he stumbled up a couple more steps, nearly losing his balance. His left leg dragged behind him. He had to keep going... He reached ahead of him for the next step, the next handhold.

 _Fennhoff..._

 _... Barney..._

 _They slowly began to make their way down the dimly lit hall, bows and arrows in hand. They kept a sharp eye out for any sign of movement, alert for any whisper of sound, though everything was still as they drew closer to Fennhoff's office. He was acutely aware of the heat of his brother's arm that was nearly touching his own, knowing that he had his back, just as he had his._

 _Almost there..._

 _Then, both of them came to an abrupt halt when a familiar, lightly accented voice seemed to come from everywhere around them._

 _"Welcome."_

 _He only had the chance to send a brief alarmed glance the other man's way before dark office doors crashed open on either side of them as Hydra agents spilled out into the hall, forming a circle around them as they all aimed their firearms in their direction._

 _"I thought you said Fennhoff was alone up here," he grumbled, standing with his back against Barney's to cover him. His bow was drawn back, an arrow ready to be released at any moment._

 _His brother situated himself similarly at his back. "He was when I scoped the place out," he retorted._

 _Letting out a quiet, heated curse, he quickly scanned the hall, his gaze landing on the door ahead of them. A quick glance told him that behind it was another staircase that led up to the roof of this particular wing of the hospital. That must have been where the rest of the Hydra agents had come from when the other man had come to get him. It also likely meant that Fennhoff had some sort of escape plan up there, as well as most likely even more agents._

 _They thought they'd been prepared, but the doctor had still been one step ahead. He set his jaw. No matter what, Fennhoff couldn't be allowed to reach that rooftop._

 _Barney seemed to reach the same conclusion he had. He glanced over his shoulder at him. "You take one side, I'll take the other?" he wondered lightly._

 _He gave a curt nod. "First one done moves in for the doctor," he replied._

 _"See you there, then." Barney smirked, quickly drawing an arrow and loosing it into the chest of the agent nearest him in one fluid motion._

 _Not wanting to be outdone, he returned the look as he stepped away from his brother, shooting down an agent before rolling and taking out another. He spared a glance over at the other man, watching as he kicked off a wall to flip over a couple of his agents and shooting them both down from the air. It looked like he still remembered his training from the carnival, too. He ran at the nearest wall, using it to propel his momentum as he twisted over the head of another man, shooting him right between the eyes before he landed gracefully again._

 _Bullets were flying at a higher rate now, and it was always a happy accident when any of the Hydra agents took out one of their own because they were too quick. He hissed in surprise when a bullet skimmed his left hand, leaving a sharp sting in its wake, before he pivoted and shot one of his couple remaining agents. One down, one to go._

 _"Clint!"_

 _He glanced over his shoulder to see Barney had just taken out the last agent he was supposed to, hesitating as he lingered, waiting for him. "Go!" he yelled, waving him away. "What are you waiting for? I'll catch up!"_

 _Barney nodded, keeping a tight grip on his bow as he ran down the rest of the hall. He drew an arrow as he reached the door they'd been targeting, disappearing into Fennhoff's office._

 _He then turned back to the lone agent still in the hall with him. The larger, broad-shouldered man raised his handgun to aim it right at his forehead, though he was quicker. He loosed an arrow, watching as it hit its target right in the barrel before he pulled the trigger. While the man cursed and paused to check the jam, he smirked as he ran straight for him, catching sight of the panic appearing on the agent's face before he dropped to the floor and slid between his legs, rising up to a knee and shooting an arrow straight into his back before he even had the chance to turn around._

 _His breathing was a little quick as he pushed himself to his feet and checked the wound on the back of his hand. Just like he'd thought, it wasn't serious, just a scratch. A stinging scratch. He shook his hand out in effort to rid of, or forget about, the pain before he set his jaw. His gaze was only on the door to Fennhoff's office as he began to hurry toward it._

Clint made a quiet sound of pain as he dragged himself up another couple steps, reaching ahead of him for the next. Almost there... he was almost at the top...

Why had he told him to run ahead? He should have told him to wait, he would have gone with him.

If he had...

 _... No... Barney... stop... please... don't go... wait for me…_

 _He stopped in front of Fennhoff's office, taking a deep breath before stepping inside with his bow held in front of him. He grunted and covered his eyes with his arm when a bright flash immediately greeted him, disorienting him._

 _"It is good of you to join us, Little Hawk."_

 _The kind yet taunting voice sent a chill down his spine. He squinted, dark spots still dancing in front of his eyes, to see Fennhoff standing across the room from him near his desk. He'd recognize the old man anywhere. Next to him stood Barney._

 _His heart nearly stopped. His brother... and the doctor..._

 _No... that couldn't be possible..._

 _A quiet laugh from Fennhoff caused him to raise his bow in front of him again as he reached for an arrow, but he paused when Barney did the same and aimed it directly at his chest. "This has been such a fun little game, do you not agree?" the doctor wondered, taking a few steps closer to him. His eyes darted between Fennhoff and the other archer, trying to keep watch on both without betraying a thing. He was quick enough to get the draw to hit the old man right between the eyes, but he knew he wouldn't be fast enough to avoid an arrow directed at him by Barney if he made a move on Fennhoff first... He'd always been the slightly faster draw between the two of them, but he couldn't bring himself to even think of harming his brother…_

 _It was a risk, one that he knew would not end well in his favor. However, he was willing to take if it meant ridding the world of this dangerous agent._

 _"But did you think I would really allow you to take something I wanted from me without paying the price?" Fennhoff continued._

 _His brow furrowed a little. Something he wanted...?_

 _Natasha. So that meant..._

 _It was then he noticed the doctor twirl that golden band he wore around his finger, and he quickly looked away. He'd been under its spell before, he couldn't allow himself to succumb to it again. He spared another glance at Barney, and his breath caught in his chest as he noticed something he hadn't when he'd first barged in. His normally bright, steely eyes were blank, glazed brother hadn't been plotting against him. Fennhoff had hypnotized him, turned him against him. And now he was trying to do the same to him._

 _He wouldn't let it happen. He wouldn't be made to fight the other archer. He wouldn't be made to harm his brother._

 _The doctor made a quiet sound of frustration when he saw his target resisting. "No matter," he murmured with a smirk. "I believe what I'm taking from you will suffice. And if you should end up killing each other, well... all the better." He then nodded to Barney and stepped to the side._

 _He looked up at his older brother with a gasp in time to see him loose the arrow, and he barely spun in time to dodge it as the wind from it brushed his cheek as it flew past. He'd barely gained his footing when a second arrow dug deep into the back of his right shoulder, and he cried out as the force from the strike sent him collapsing into the wall in front of him._

 _"Shit!"_

 _He nearly let go of his own bow as he dropped to a knee, agony pulsing down his arm and up through his neck. Drops of crimson splashed against the floor around him, and his breathing quickened as he sprawled to the floor, just in time to avoid a third arrow that struck the wall right where his head had just been._

 _He allowed his eyes to droop closed for the briefest of moments as his heart raced, looking up to see that Fennhoff was slowly walking toward him. He smirked as he passed him by, lingering in the doorway of his office for only a moment before he stepped out into the hall to check on things there._

 _A beat passed before he grit his teeth and reached for an arrow to fire after him, but he looked up with wide eyes to see Barney was quickly bearing down on him. He'd extended his bow so that it was now a close combat weapon, much like his own could do, and he raised it over his head to bring it down on him._

 _Knowing it was going to hurt, he held his breath before rolling toward him, cringing as the arrow was jostled by the movement. But it was an action the other archer wasn't expecting, causing him to pause for a brief moment, which was enough time for him to extend his own bow into a similar weapon and push himself up to a wobbly knee. He held his bow up in front of him, able to block Barney's next strike just in time. His arm shook from the amount of force he was having to exert, and his shoulder shouted in protest._

 _"Barney... stop... this isn't you!" He nearly lost his balance when he pushed the older man back from him, hardly able to raise his weapon again in time to deflect another hit. "Barney!"_

 _They exchanged a few more hits before he was able to get to his feet, where they went blow for blow. Each strike sent a tremor of pain through his right arm, to where his shoulder was pulsing and burning with agony. He was immediately transported back to their carnival days where he and his brother had been trained in how to properly wield their swords by fighting each other. They'd both always been highly competitive, so they'd always enjoyed the challenge of trying to outdo the other._

 _But this wasn't training. It wasn't a challenge. His bum shoulder was a weakness, it slowed him down. And his brother knew it. And Barney was aiming to kill._

 _Having been in this exact spot before, he knew how to knock some sense into the other man. He just had to get a clear shot..._

 _"Barney!"_

 _His right shoulder throbbed with pain, causing him to miss a swing. He stumbled with a wince. And, like a shark drawn to blood, the older man struck._

 _The hit landed square in the center of his chest. His eyes widened. The strike would have no doubt been fatal had it been anything other than the blunt end of his bow. But the force was still enough to rob him of breath, and he knew he would be sporting an ugly bruise later and would be incredibly fortunate if nothing was cracked or broken. He fell back into Fennhoff's desk, the only way he was able to stay upright, until Barney used his bow to sweep his legs out from under him. He crashed hard to the floor, dropping his bow as white spots danced before his eyes and an agonized scream ripped from his throat when the arrow in his shoulder went deeper into the tissue with enough force to pierce the bone as the shaft snapped._

 _He lay still, gasping for breath as the corners of his vision began to fade and darken as his body trembled. His mind hadn't even fully registered the pain, his right shoulder simply numb. His bow was just out of reach of his grasping fingers, though he cringed as he continued to try to grab it._

 _"Barney..." he whispered._

 _Above him, Barney leaned forward a little, surveying the damage. He lowered his bow to his side. He was leaving himself open._

 _It was an opportunity he snatched. He probably wouldn't get another._

 _When the older man got just a little closer, he strained his good arm and reached out for his bow one more time. His shaking fingers managed to grasp it, and he sat up and swung it upward faster than his brother could register the motion. He watched as it connected solidly with his head, and he waited as a beat passed before Barney's blank eyes began to clear before they dropped closed. He reached out as his brother collapsed. He couldn't suppress a cringe as he brought Barney's head to rest against his chest briefly before he set him carefully on the floor._

 _"All right... easy... we're okay..."_

 _Though he could only afford himself a moment to catch his breath. There was still Fennhoff to worry about. He knew the doctor wouldn't have gone too far away. If he was angry with him for, in his own words, stealing Natasha from him, he'd want to see him get killed by his brother's hands, not caring what would happen to Barney in the process._

 _Which also meant he likely had something else lying in wait for him should his first plan fail._

 _And now, he was on his own._

 _Setting his jaw, he shook out his bow before he slowly pushed himself to his feet. The color drained from his face as a wave of nausea rushed over him, and he gripped the desk so hard his knuckles turned white as he gasped for breath when agony rippled through his entire upper right torso. He let out a mirthless chuckle, his chin dropping to his chest. He was up against a mad doctor and likely more Hydra agents, and he only had one good arm to work with. Great odds._

 _But if he was going down, he wasn't going down without a fight. And he would make damn sure to bring Fennhoff down with him._

 _"All right, Clint... on three. One. Two."_

 _He took a couple steps away from the desk, gripping his bow to him tightly as he passed by Barney and paused in the doorway of the office, chancing a cautious glance outside._

 _Empty. Silent._

 _Then, the door that led to the roof closed, and he sucked in a breath as he hurried forward and pushed his way through after the doctor. Before it could close behind him, he heard a familiar voice call out his name from the other end of the hall, and he quickly turned to see Natasha had entered with her gun drawn. The door closed just as, surprisingly, Coulson followed her with a couple more agents, his eyes widened with concern._

 _He listened to the sound of Fennhoff's frantic footsteps making their way up the steps. Fast... how could he move so fast...? He winced as he reached back for an arrow with his good arm, finding it to be the one with the purple band, the one Barney had given back to him... Old but reliable. And he really had kept it in good condition._

 _He notched it on his bow, his right shoulder screaming in agony as he took a couple steps forward and aimed it at the circling staircase above him. His eyes narrowed slightly when he caught sight of the doctor hurrying by before he disappeared from sight again. He held his breath, patiently counting in his mind before he loosed it. A smirk spread across his face as Fennhoff let out a cry of surprise and pain, stumbling when the arrow sank into his right shoulder._

 _"That should slow him down a little."_

 _He then began to run up the stairs after the older man. He was nearly at the top when he watched the doctor hobble out the door that led to the roof, and he grit his teeth as he reached the landing, having to pause for a moment as the pounding in his shoulder nearly became unbearable. He heard the door open below him followed by Natasha and Coulson yelling after him before they began to run up the stairs with their agents. But he had to push forward, or Fennhoff would get away. That couldn't happen. Cringing, he reached the door and was about to push it open when another worried voice from below made him pause._

 _"Clint! Stop!"_

 _Barney..._

… I'm sorry…

 _He couldn't hesitate anymore. He had to go._

 _With a cry of both determination and pain, he pushed the door open and stumbled out onto the rooftop._

Clint made it to the top of the staircase, wavering before he collapsed to the hard floor. His bow clattered onto the ground beside him. He looked down, seeing that his knees and his hands had landed in a pool of crimson. His gaze wavered as his breath caught in his chest, his heart nearly stopping.

"... Barney... I'm so sorry..."

 _I should have stopped..._

 _... Damn it, why didn't I stop...?_

 _... Barney..._

 _A strong, cold blast of air met him as he stepped out onto the rooftop. He squinted and shielded his face with his good arm, to see that a helicopter was waiting across from him. Fennhoff's escape route._

 _The doctor himself was standing toward the center of the roof, grumbling and cursing to himself as he tried to tend to the arrow wound in his shoulder. Though when he saw he was no longer alone, he paused before sending a smirk his way._

 _"I'm impressed you've made it to me, Little Hawk," Fennhoff purred as he turned to face him. He inclined his head. "You are rather pale."_

 _His shoulder was pounding in time with his racing heart, each beat a wave of agony. All the motion had caused him to start losing blood at a quicker rate. He wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to stay on his feet, to stay awake, since he was already feeling a bit more lightheaded. But he couldn't stop. "Doesn't mean I still can't take you out," he snapped between his gasps, reaching for another arrow._

 _Fennhoff's smirk broadened, his eyes gleaming as he tsked quietly. "You are certainly welcome to try."_

 _He fought through the blinding pain as he notched the arrow on his bow and aimed it at the old man, hoping his arm remained steady as his shoulder screamed and threatened to give out on him. He just had to hold on for a little bit longer..._

 _One more motion... just pull back... let go..._

 _The door crashed open behind him, and Natasha, Coulson, Barney, and the couple S.H.I.E.L.D. agents that accompanied them appeared on either side of him, all their weapons drawn and aimed at the doctor. He inwardly sighed with relief. At least he wasn't alone. If he couldn't bring down their adversary... His partner set a steadying hand on his good shoulder while his brother couldn't even bring himself to look at him, his gaze lowered in guilt._

 _"Give it up, Fennhoff!" Coulson demanded, his gun leveled at the old man. "You won't make it to the helicopter!"_

 _But Fennhoff simply smiled. "I would not count on that," he whispered._

 _And suddenly, they were all surrounded by more Hydra agents, who'd just seemed to appear out of the shadows. And they all had heavier firepower._

 _"Get down!" Natasha yelled in warning._

 _They scattered as one of the Hydra agents fired off their weapon, one of their agents dragging him along just as it detonated. They stumbled away from each other as a blast rocked the building's foundation, the heat from the explosion washing over him and nearly singing the hairs on his arms. Sirens could be heard in the distance drawing closer, and he had no doubt they were heading over to them._

 _He quickly glanced over his shoulder at the sound of a familiar panicked yell, watching as Barney pulled Coulson back a bit as part of the rooftop crumbled from where the explosive device had gone off, saving the agent from the fall before firing a few arrows at a couple of the men heading straight for them. Natasha was rushing at the Hydra agent who had fired off the weapon with another one of their own to take him out and prevent another explosive strike, and their other couple agents fired at a few more of the doctor's men. He took out one who was approaching his partner that she hadn't seen with an arrow of his own before leaning forward a bit to catch his breath, biting back a cry when his shoulder burned in agony from the motion._

 _Fennhoff was standing in the midst of all the chaos, a gleeful look in his lined features as he watched the chaos raging around him. It made him sick. He reached for another arrow, setting his jaw as he envisioned it going straight between his eyes._

 _The doctor's gaze then met his, and a broad smirk appeared on his face as he turned and began to head for the helicopter. His heart raced. His gaze swept the rooftop around him, seeing that Barney, Natasha, Coulson, and the other agents didn't notice that their target was making his escape._

 _He had to stop him._

 _Taking a deep breath, he ran after Fennhoff, doing his best to ignore the agony shooting through his arm and neck each time his shoulder was jostled. He notched his arrow and took out another Hydra agent giving Barney a little trouble, a quiet whimper breaking through his lips, before turning his full attention to the old man ahead of him._

 _"Fennhoff!" he yelled angrily._

 _The mad doctor set a wrinkled hand on the open door of the helicopter, prepared to climb in, though he paused at the heated sound of his name._

 _Waiting for him..._

 _When he drew closer, he began to reach for another arrow, though he skidded to an abrupt halt, nearly screaming when his shoulder was jerked a bit more roughly than he'd expected at the action, when Fennhoff quickly rounded on him with a grin. The look was dark and full of malice._

 _"This is for taking what's mine," he hissed with venom. "Goodbye, Little Hawk."_

 _"Look out!"_

 _Natasha's warning from behind him came a breath too late as a second agent appeared beside the doctor from inside the helicopter, a large handgun raised and aimed directly at his chest. His eyes widened._

Of course... he should have expected it... he hadn't been thinking...

 _"Clint!"_

 _He gasped at the sound of his name from close behind him, the voice so familiar._

... Barney...

 _A pair of strong, steady hands grabbed his shoulders from behind. He briefly resisted, but the agony shooting through his torso by the rough hold too close to the arrow drained the fight from him, and his efforts didn't last long as the other archer shoved him forcefully out of the way._

 _Just as shots rang out._

 _He hit the ground hard, cringing in pain before he quickly looked back up at Barney. His heart nearly stopped, his blood ran cold, his breath caught in his chest as he watched the bullets tear through his brother's torso. His eyes widened in horror as he watched Barney –his constant protector– fall..._

 _Barney's wide, cheerful smile and loud laugh... his arms around him, protecting him... his strong heartbeat echoing in his ears... his assurances that everything was going to be okay since they had each other... all flashed through his mind as he watched the other man's chest shudder once more before it stopped. As he watched the light leave his steely eyes._

You promised you wouldn't let them separate us... that's what you said... Barney... you promised me...

 _"No!"_

 _His horrified cry sounded distant to his own ears, as though it'd come from somewhere else entirely. He began to crawl toward his brother as quickly as he could, ignoring how his arm shook beneath him as he applied pressure to his injured shoulder. Ignored how more blood began to seep through his tank top. He was desperate for any sign of life... a whisper of breath, a heartbeat, a smile, a gleam in his eye..._ anything. _One of their agents shot down the Hydra man who had fired the fatal shots, though Fennhoff was already in the helicopter, which was lifting into the dark sky._

 _But he didn't care. All that mattered was Barney lying completely still a couple feet away from him. He reached for him, his fingertips brushing against his toned arm..._

 _Another pair of strong arms wrapped around him from behind, pulling him away from the other archer as his shoulder pulsed in agony from the contact. His eyes widened, almost wild, as he struggled against them. He briefly caught sight of Natasha watching him sadly before he glanced up at Coulson's stony face. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, enraged. "I have to..."_

 _"It's too late," Coulson muttered, his calm voice close to his ear wavering ever so slightly as he attempted to keep control of him despite his frantic movements. So that he wouldn't hurt himself further. "I'm sorry. We've gotta go, Clint... I heard from the ground that more Hydra agents are surrounding the building. We're outnumbered."_

 _But he hardly heard the other man's words. He didn't care. Tears rushed to his eyes, obscuring his vision of the motionless Barney, and he fought against the agents hold with more vigor, trying to break away._

 _He had to get to him... he_ had _to..._

 _"Damn it, let me go!" he snapped, though Coulson didn't relent, his steady arms remaining firm across his chest. "I can't just leave him! He wouldn't leave me... I have to... please...Phil, please… I..."_

 _He finally collapsed weakly against the other agent, allowing him to keep him on his feet. To keep him upright as his strength left him. A raw, agonized scream ripped from his throat._

"Barney!"

The distressed, broken sound of his brother's name echoed through the empty hallway as he shut his eyes tightly, his hands curling into fists. His chest heaved as a couple tears leaked from behind his closed eyelids and trailed down his cheeks, his body shaking.

Clint didn't remember how they'd gotten away from the hospital that night. He must have blacked out at some point from pain, from shock. From grief. The next thing he remembered from that time was waking up in a S.H.I.E.L.D. medical facility three days later to a concerned Natasha, Coulson, and Laura, as well as Fury, who was also more than a bit exasperated. He'd been certain the director had been about to let him go right then and there. That he'd been about to lose one of the best things that had ever happened to him. He'd messed up big time. But he had lost too much already to really bring himself to care. Nothing that the other man could throw at him would amount to what he'd already lost.

Fury had seemed to agree, as he'd offered no disciplinary action against him for going behind his back. The guilt eating him alive for his brother's death was more than enough of a punishment for that transgression.

Barney's memorial had been about a week later, when he'd been released from the medical facility. He almost hadn't gone to it even though he'd been invited, unsure if he'd be able to face what he'd done. But Laura had encouraged him to since she'd known he'd end up regretting it if he hadn't. And deep down, he'd known she'd been right. Though the only way he'd actually ended up going was when both Natasha and Coulson had offered to go with him. They'd been with him when his brother had died, after all, and hadn't wanted him to be alone. And they'd stayed right by his side as he'd snuck in, his arm in a sling, and made sure to make no eye contact as he'd sat in the back pew of the church.

The memorial had been simple, but moving. Fitting for who it'd been for. Even though he'd been there to celebrate and remember the life of the closest family he'd ever had, the archer had never felt more like a stranger in his older brother's life. Among the many colored floral arrangements had been photograph collages of Barney with people who'd been important to him that he hadn't been able to bring himself to look at since he hadn't belonged in that world. Nearly everyone in attendance had been people he'd never seen before. Men and women who had served with him in the Army and in the FBI had spoken about his heroic and selfless feats, as well as his kindness and generosity toward others with a humorous anecdote thrown in here or there.

It had been a life he'd completely missed out on.

Clint had almost left in the middle of it- no one would have paid them any mind- since he'd felt as though he'd been invading something personal he shouldn't have been seeing. But Natasha's hand entwined securely with his own and Coulson's ever sturdy presence next to him had kept him in place.

It was when Simone- her once wild and fiery hair now falling straight and dark to her shoulders- had stepped up to give a heartfelt eulogy about the relationship and the life that she and Barney had shared over the many years they'd been together that he'd begun to feel a little at ease. At least she'd been someone he'd known.

He'd listened intently as she'd recalled their early days when they'd met at the carnival, how young and so in love they'd been and how everything had been so new and fresh and fun. How they'd left to start a new life together, one that had entirely been their own. How his time in the service and in the FBI had sometimes put a strain on things, especially financially when he'd been away while she'd worked a couple jobs at a time to keep their apartment and save up to go to college one day, but how they'd always figured it out and made it through together. How they'd flirted with the idea of marriage one day but hadn't seen it as necessary. How he'd been such a loving, loyal, and dedicated boyfriend, partner, and rock. How he'd been such a committed, steadfast, and doting provider and father to Sebastian.

Their son.

The whole world had seemed to fall away from around him in that moment.

Father.

Barney had been a _father_...

 _His heart stopped as Simone paused to wipe the tears from her cheeks._

 _Son... She and his brother had a child... They'd been a family..._

 _He'd taken that life away from them..._

 _He couldn't breathe._

 _Barney had chosen to die knowing full well he'd had a son waiting for him to come home..._

 _He'd had no idea..._

 _Why would he...?_

 _He hated him. He resented the choice he'd made. Why had he...? The older man shouldn't have gotten in the way of those bullets. Not when..._

 _A son._

 _His head dropped to his chest, his eyes shut tightly against the burning tears that threatened to fall as a silent sob escaped from him._

... Why...?

 _He glanced up when Natasha's hand tightened around his, her thumb brushing over his tense knuckles, to see her looking back at him with an even blend of sorrow and concern. No words passed between them, they weren't needed, as she rested her head against his and closed her eyes. He leaned into her._

 _"It should have been me," he whispered, loud enough for only her to hear. "It was my fault, Tasha... He should have just let me die. He had a child..."_

 _"And you have two of your own," she replied just as quietly. "How do you think it would be for them if their father hadn't come home?"_

 _He let out a shuddering breath, shaking his head slightly. "He didn't know about them, Nat. He knew about his own son... He shouldn't have had to die..."_

 _"Clint."_

 _The quiet sound of his name caused him to pause. Natasha squeezed his hand again. "It's not fair, either way," she murmured. "But Cooper and Lila still have their father. That's how it is. Hug them extra tight when you go home to them tonight. For Barney."_

 _After the memorial wound down, he urged Natasha and Coulson to head for the door. He had no intention to mingle, not when he was a stranger to the people gathered who'd known his brother better than he had. He couldn't stay, not when his guilt was slowly drowning him... he had to get home to his own children. To hold them and not let go._

 _But before they could make their escape, a quiet, familiar voice came from behind him as a light hand touched his shoulder._

 _"Clint?"_

 _He hesitated briefly, not prepared for how his heart was roughly pulled by the single word, before he turned himself around. His face crumpled when he saw the even blend of hope and relief... love, he realized... he was greeted with. "Simone," he murmured._

 _Without another word, she moved closer and carefully enfolded him in her arms, her face buried in his chest as her slender frame shook with tears. He pulled her even closer with his good arm, resting his head against hers as more tears escaped from his own eyes._

 _"I'm sorry..." he whispered against her dark hair, his breath hitching. "God, Simone... I'm so sorry..."_

 _She shook her head before she backed away a little, not relinquishing her hold on him. Almost as though she were afraid he'd disappear on the spot if she did. "No, Clint. I'm glad you're here," she told him, attempting a small smile. She set a hand on his cheek, brushing at the tears with her thumb. He could hardly meet her dark, knowing eyes. "It's good to see you, kid. It's been too long. You look good. I just wish... I wish the circumstances were different."_

 _All he could do was nod in agreement, taking a deep, shaking breath. Her gentle touch was calming._

 _"Barney would have wanted you here, too," she continued softly. "I know he was with you when..." Her voice trailed off before she sighed. "At the end. And that gives me more comfort than you could possibly know."_

 _There was nothing he could say to that. Guilt had robbed him of his voice._

 _As they finally pulled away from each other, Simone glanced curiously at Natasha when the red-haired woman reached out and took his arm to steady him. "Who's this?" she asked._

 _"Oh, this is my work partner, Natasha," he answered with a slight smile as Natasha gave the other woman a nod hello. "And this is our friend, Phil." Coulson gave her a brief but pleasant wave._

 _"It's good to meet you both." Simone shook both of their hands as smiles were exchanged. "I'm glad to see that Clint has some friends, has people of his own, now."_

 _"Everyone needs those," Coulson agreed._

 _A moment passed before he took a deep breath, looking back at Simone. "Is Barney's... Is your..." He shook his head briefly, allowing the question to trail off. The words were foreign to him. He couldn't bring himself to say them._

 _Simone smiled sadly in understanding as she glanced over her shoulder. "Sebastian's with my cousin," she told him._

 _He followed her gaze, recognizing the man from the dive bar. Though it was the child sitting next to him on the pew that caused him to feel as though he'd been punched in the gut and his heart had been roughly torn out of his chest._

 _He couldn't have been much older than Cooper. His dark hair, slightly waved, was a mess around his face. His skin was a couple shades darker than his brother's, but his eyes were the same steely color he was so familiar with. The dimples in his right cheek when he smiled were the same ones he'd grown up with._

 _There was so much in that young face that was so undeniably Barney. His ripped-out heart shattered._

 _"Would you like to meet him?" Simone wondered quietly, turning back to him. "Barney made sure to tell him about his Uncle Clint. He asks about you all the time. You're his favorite bedtime story, though Lord knows Barney has to heavily edit the ones he does tell." She swallowed hard as she realized what she said. "Or…had to..."_

 _His breath left him._ Uncle Clint. _Barney had told their son about him? He was his nephew's favorite bedtime story? He hadn't been prepared for that..._

 _Cooper and Lila didn't know about their Uncle Barney._

 _But even still, he was practically a stranger in his nephew's life. He was the reason the child no longer had a father. There was no way past that._

 _He shook his head. "I... I'm sorry, Simone. I... I can't..."_

 _Simone's brow furrowed lightly, but she nodded once. Somehow, she still understood. "Another time, then," she said._

 _A moment passed before he nodded in agreement. "Another time."_

He hadn't spoken to or seen Simone since, even though she'd asked him to keep in touch. He had never met Sebastian, the one tie left that he had to Barney. He hadn't been able to bring himself to. He still couldn't. The guilt had been, and still was, just too much.

A pained shudder ran through Clint's body. His left leg throbbed beneath him. His heart raced, his breathing quick. His hands shook.

"... Barney..."

A footstep came from right in front of him, and his eyes snapped open as he grabbed his bow and started to try and push himself to his feet. But the quiet voice that reached his ears caused him to pause as his breath was robbed from him.

"I'm right here, Clint."

 **Author's Note** : So there may still be some trouble for Peter (and possibly others) ahead, Tony's struggling with guilt about Clint's fate, and Clint... well, Clint's fallen victim to Fennhoff's hallucinogen. We'll see how this all plays out next time! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thanks, guys, until next time!


	24. Chapter 24- Taking the Queen

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit. I do own the OC in this chapter, however.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Hey, guys! Thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows, they mean a lot! I'm glad you guys are enjoying this crazy ride. So everyone's in a bit of trouble at this point, lol. Fennhoff's got his hand in a lot. So it's not good for anyone from here on out. Once again, much, much thanks to **CoffeeRanger** for working on this Clint storyline with me! It wouldn't be as angsty and depressing without you, lol. Also, from here on out, there will also be more clues as to what Fennhoff's up to, and what he wants with the Avengers. So keep an eye out for those. And with that, I won't keep you guys any longer! Enjoy!

 _Chapter 24- Taking the Queen_

"I'm right here, Clint."

The archer's head snapped up at the quiet voice that brought him out of his racing thoughts. It sounded so familiar... The tones – hell, even the words – were ones he had grown up hearing. Almost every time he'd been upset – hiding from their dad, crying in his hidey-hole in the space between the wall and his bed, quivering in fear that the other kids or even the adults at the orphanage would find him, raging at yet another slur from one of the Carnies being directed his way – Barney would find him. His presence was almost always heralded by those very words, promising safety and security... but this time they were also not exactly right...

He clenched his teeth, fighting back the cry that threatened to escape. _This couldn't be real... it couldn't be possible._

 _There was no way..._

Yet there he was, kneeling in the middle of that fateful hospital hallway. Clint slowly pushed himself to his feet with his bow, his left leg nearly giving out from underneath him before he reached out and grasped at the wall for support. His body shaking, he took a moment to collect himself before he turned to face the figure in the hall with him. His breath caught in his chest as all the color drained from his face. Though it shouldn't have been a surprise to see the tall, broad-shouldered man with his brown hair tied back behind his head, revealing his silver earrings, wearing a familiar red and black tank top and black pants, the sight still caused him a sharp stab of pain.

But there was one detail that was able to ground him.

"Close, but near miss," he muttered, allowing himself a small chuckle as he looked at the other figure... the hallucination… or rather the android or the cosplayer Fennhoff had either created or hired, as the arrow in his leg definitely wasn't created by the gas... up and down. "Barney would never carry a crossbow."

The bow his older brother had carried while he'd been alive had been a homage to Buck Chrisholm. He knew it well, as it had even been carved similarly to the one he'd made under their mentor's guidance. That first one his brother had owned had been fashioned similarly to Buck's, though Barney had ensured to add his own personal flare to it. Buck had chuckled when he'd seen it for the first time. Even though Barney had been entirely too old for it, their mentor had ruffled his hair as he'd walked away. It was a rare gesture of affection that they hadn't been used to. To use anything else would have been a mockery to what they'd both been trained to do. It was a detail that someone who hadn't known the other man well... _Fennhoff_ , he had to remind himself... wouldn't have necessarily known. It was a mistake, an oversight. The gas, the doctor's efforts... they'd only gone so far here.

The Barney knock-off looked down at the crossbow he held. Clint knew he was probably imagining it, especially since it was a little harder to tell since most of the other man's face was covered by a black cloth mask, but he thought he caught a flicker of distaste in his steely eyes.

"I'd consider it an upgrade," he said instead.

Clint grit his teeth, swearing under his breath, when his leg pulsed in agony and started to collapse underneath him. A quiet whimper broke through his lips as he fought to stay upright, refusing to show weakness. The other man laughed.

"You deserve that and more," the Barney rip-off muttered, nodding to Clint's wounded leg before looking at the hall around them. "Judging by how you were just screaming, I'd guess you're where you left me to die."

The archer looked back at him for a long moment, attempting to make sense of his words. He had to keep reminding himself that none of this was possible... none of this was _real_... As convincing as this fake Barney, or this android, could be, it wasn't his brother.

 _It's the gas it's the gas it's the gas it's the gas it's the..._

 _... Right?_

"But... you are dead..." he murmured, shaking his head slightly. "I... I saw you... I saw you die... I went to your memorial... It... it wasn't my fault... we all would have died if..."

Barney crossed his arms, casually picking at the string on his crossbow. "I'm sure that's what Fury, Coulson, and the others told you to make you feel better about what happened that night," he said, more to himself than the other man. "Takes the blame away from you. You do what you have to do to cope, I suppose..."

"No... no, this isn't real... this _can't_ be real..." Clint rested his burning forehead against his arm where it was leaning against the wall, feeling the pressure building behind his eyes. It couldn't be... _not Barney_... "It... it's... you're not him..."

It was an android. It had to be an android or cosplayer. Because the alternative – that Barney had been alive; that he'd just left him on that hospital rooftop, walked away just when Barney needed him the most, walked away when they were finally possibly going to have a chance to fix everything… he couldn't stand to think of it.

"Am I not?"

There was something in his brother's tone that he didn't like, and Clint quickly looked up to see Barney was reaching for an arrow. His muscles tensed, prepared to do the same. He could beat him on the draw... He'd always been able to beat Barney on the draw…

But he hesitated, forcing his body to relax. He was tired, he was lost with no way out, his leg was shaking so badly it was going to give out on him at any second... He stared back at the steely eyes, full of light, unlike the last time he'd seen them. He knew them so well, definitely better than he knew his own. He was surprised that they'd been replicated so accurately even if some other details were off.

 _Barney..._

If he were going to die here, it only seemed fitting that it would be by his brother's visage. A life for a life. This was the way it should be. It was the only way it should have been.

 _Laura... I'm sorry..._

The Barney knock-off drew the arrow and notched it on his crossbow, raising it so it was lined at the younger man's chest. Clint took a deep breath, setting his jaw as he dropped his own bow. Then he raised his hands in the air and sank to his knees as slowly as his leg would allow in surrender.

"If you wanna pull that trigger, go right ahead," he murmured, giving the other archer a small, resigned, almost sad smile. "But I'm not gonna fight you, Barney. I never could, and I'm not gonna start now."

A moment stretched out between them where neither man moved. Then, something quickly flashed through Barney's eyes, something he hadn't expected. _Uncertainty_. He was _hesitating_.

Androids didn't show those sorts of emotions. Androids didn't hesitate.

But the momentary slip didn't last long, and Barney's- _the cosplayer's_ \- eyes narrowed as he tightened his hold on his crossbow. "The Clint I know wouldn't dare die without a fight," he said, trying to keep his voice firm and steady. Though he could hear the slightest shake in it.

Clint sighed. "Then maybe you don't know me as well as you think you did," he replied quietly. "But if you want me dead because it's my fault you died, and you're not a coward, then go ahead, Barney. Take the shot. End it."

What he could see of Barney's face darkened, and he raised the crossbow again and fired. Clint didn't flinch, though his brow furrowed when the arrow barely missed his head, feeling the wind of it brush against his cheek before striking the wall close beside him. His gaze lingered on the older man, surprised. Barney had always been a very accurate shot, he remembered from the times he'd seen him use a bow and arrow. Much like he was. What had made him falter?

 _It's not Barney_. That's why he missed. He had to keep reminding himself of that, he had to stop talking to him like he was. If he didn't, he'd get lost in the illusion...

A slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "What's wrong, Barney? Get nervous, or-!"

Suddenly, the archer screamed in pain as the arrow emitted a sharp, sonic pulse, the high-pitched sound ripping through his skull. A sonic arrow... he'd used a sonic arrow...

 _… he hadn't missed after all_...

He quickly covered his ears when he felt something in them pop, closing his eyes tightly as he felt something warm and wet trickle through his fingers. His screams grew fainter as a deafening ringing filled his ears until he wasn't even sure if he was still screaming or not. Clint attempted to move to his feet but was too dizzy. The hospital hallway swirled around him as he wavered on his knees, almost tipping over, wincing as his head pounded in agony.

His vision swayed and faded as he looked up at Barney, who had approached and was now towering over him. The older archer kicked his bow out of the way from where he'd dropped it as he shakily started to reach for it before drawing another arrow. A quick look at the arrowhead told him that it was just a regular arrow this time. The first had been meant to make him suffer; this one was meant to end his life.

 _It's not Barney..._

He wasn't going to lie down and die without a fight. Not this time.

 _It's not Barney…_

Clint grit his teeth as he staggered to his feet, biting back a cry as his left leg nearly buckled beneath him as he almost lost his equilibrium when the world moved too quickly. Barney's eyes widened as he took a step back, not expecting the sudden motion, and the younger archer reached out and managed to weakly grab the other man's wrist as he stumbled forward.

Just as the sudden rough motion caused his brother to accidentally fire.

At first, the pain didn't even register as the arrow tore through skin and tissue and muscle, the force enough to knock him off his feet if he hadn't been holding onto Barney. Clint's eyes widened, the color starting to drain from his face, as he looked down at where the weapon had burrowed deep in his chest.

The arrow had hit him in almost the exact same spot his arrow had pierced Barney all those years ago. It was fitting. Now Barney…. no, _the cosplayer_ … would be able to leave him exactly as he had left his brother to die.

His rapid breathing grew raspy as he moved his gaze back up to those steely eyes that were once so familiar, wishing he could see the rest of the man's face that he kept covered. Though he wasn't sure what he'd rather see- how the rest of the cosplay had failed, or how his brother had somehow miraculously come back from the dead, only to stand against him.

Though if anyone should have taken the fatal shot, it should have been Barney. That right belonged to him.

But what surprised him was that those familiar eyes were wide with what could almost be horror. _Why... why would a henchman that Fennhoff sent to kill him be afraid of accomplishing his own mission...?_

"... Ba... Barney..." Clint managed to gasp out. His shaking hands briefly tightened around the other man's wrists, able to feel the racing pulse under the warm skin, before he began to weakly sink to the floor.

Barney reached his other arm out, getting a secure hold behind his back, before easing him to the hard ground. He lingered for a moment longer than necessary, simply looking down at him, before his eyes narrowed. While his vision still swayed, the younger archer could make out that his mouth was moving beneath the dark cloth mask he wore, though he couldn't hear what he was saying over the incessant ringing in his ears. A moment passed before his brother rested his crossbow over his shoulder and stood, a look he couldn't quite read flickering in his eyes- _regret?_ \- before he turned and walked away from him.

"You… you promised you… wouldn't let them se-separate us, B-Barney... That's what y-you said..."

Clint couldn't quite hear the words as they left his mouth over the ringing in his ears, but he felt his lips form them as they vibrated through his chest… those words, that promise the older man had made from when they were children, that he knew by heart.

The knock-off Barney paused, hesitating ever so slightly as he glanced back at him over his shoulder, before he continued on his way. Just like that, he was gone.

A tremor ran through Clint's body as he coughed forcefully, the movement spreading fire and agony through his chest as it jostled the arrow. He could feel the blood, the life, flowing out of him with each ragged, desperate gasp for breath. The pain and numbness in his leg was all but forgotten; it didn't matter since he wasn't leaving the hospital... no, _the warehouse_... The pounding in his temples increased as the ringing in his ears finally began to subside, replaced with what could only be described as a rushing sound. It was all he could hear as his vision continued to sway precariously. Darkness appeared at the corners of his eyes, threatening to grab him and pull him under. He let out a shuddering breath as his body continued to shake, almost ready to allow it to claim him.

 _... Laura..._

His wife's name flashed through his mind, the first thing to be louder than the rushing that was swallowing him whole. He knew he couldn't just lie there and give in. Laura's pretty, smiling face lingered above him, giving him something to reach out for and hold on to...

The hospital... _the warehouse_... shook around him, down to its very foundation. It could crumble around him, burying him inside, for all it mattered now.

He should have called Laura... how he wished he could hear her voice tell him she loved him just one more time, how he wished he could hear his children's laughter as he drifted off... But it was too late. The darkness, the rushing, were surrounding him, drowning him, as his body tried and failed to fight them back. He took one more gasping breath, his hand reaching out for something- for _someone_ \- that wasn't there. His body slowly stilled in its trembling. His chest shuddered.

 _... Laura... I'm sorry... I... love..._

The world fell away around him, and Clint allowed his eyes to fall closed as the shadows pulled him under.

* * *

Tony watched with wide-eyed horror as the mysterious man walked away from where he'd left Clint lying on the floor on the security feed. He leaned closer to the screen, resting a trembling hand against it, right next to where he could see the archer was gasping for breath. He let out his own harsh, shaking breath as he looked closer at the arrow deep in his chest. No doubt it was a fatal wound if no one got to him in time. Scott and Wanda were both too far gone in their own heads due to the gas… and if no one else knew he was there or that they'd been ambushed…

 _"Is this the first time you've lost a soldier?"_

Steve's question from what felt like another lifetime, from when Phil Coulson had died, resurfaced amid his racing thoughts. He'd been so adamant then to say that they weren't soldiers. Though with the Accords, those who'd signed were a little closer to being them, he realized. Though looking back on it, what else had really annoyed him about that question was how… detached the Captain had been from the words he'd spoken. And it'd made him realize just how much death the other man had witnessed in his life. His own parents, Edwin Jarvis, Peggy and Daniel… the kid in Sokovia and countless innocents while he'd been an Avenger… that was all one thing. But to see death so up close and personal, to watch over someone in their last moments like this in a time of war… Steve was stronger than he could ever be, he knew. It was a responsibility he wasn't sure he could shoulder. He couldn't even begin to see how the Super Soldier could do it.

And now…

At least there was a television screen between them. Though at the moment, Tony wished there wasn't. Tears filled his hazel eyes as he wished with everything he had that he could be in that warehouse right next to Clint, doing whatever it took to save him if he could. Not trapped in God knew where with no way to get to him. Both of them, helpless. He may have never lost a soldier, not in that sense… but he'd never thought of losing one of his own… someone he'd considered a friend, despite all that had happened between them…

A frustrated, pained cry broke through his lips as his hand curled into a fist before it connected solidly with the screen. Admittedly, the hit was weaker than expected- he blamed it on a mix of having had the gas in his system, lack of food, and the beatings he'd already endured along with still recovering from his gunshot wound from when the building by the ferry port had exploded- so it didn't have nearly the satisfying result as he'd hoped it would. Plus he'd forgotten how damn durable those old televisions were. Either way, instead of smashing the screen, the billionaire cursed loudly as he brought his sore hand back to cradle against his chest, whispering another heated expletive as a couple tears leaked from his eyes.

 _Clint… hang in there… please…_

"Do you feel better now, Mr. Stark?"

Tony slowly looked up at where Fennhoff was standing just behind him, leaning on his cane as he watched the security feed with rapt attention and the shadows of a triumphant smile. The archer… who had been trying to find him… was dying, and the old man was watching it like an entertaining movie. Like he was just waiting for the breath that would prove to be Clint's last. It made him sick.

"No. I think I'd feel better if this fist were to break your face," he hissed, shaking his hand out a bit as he furiously tried to blink his tears away.

The doctor allowed himself a chuckle at the retort. He briefly glanced at where Arsen and Bao were sitting across the long chessboard from each other. "Yes, well… I believe we saw how that went last time you attempted it," he muttered.

Tony had no response for that. His cheek and stomach were still sore from where Arsen's metal hand had connected with them.

Then, a broad smile spread across Fennhoff's face. "The queen's been taken."

Bao grinned triumphantly as he reached across the board and took one of Arsen's white pieces- the one with Clint's name- and set it on his side. His eyes gleamed.

 _The queen who moves across the board like a knight…_ That's how Fennhoff had described the archer.

Dread pierced Tony's heart as he hesitantly turned back to the screen, seeing that Clint was now lying very still… too still. It was difficult to tell from the feed, but the doctor seemed confident that he was either dead or would be in only a matter of moments…

 _… No… Clint… please, no… You'd better fight… fight for your wife and kids… Clint, please…_

His own heart nearly stopped. If the other man died, it would be on him… It'd be all his fault… He could have saved Clint had he just accept Fennhoff's offer to join him in time. But he hadn't. He'd been selfish. And the other man had paid the price for it….

The billionaire slowly started to reach out for the television screen again, but he paused when it switched back to black as the old man turned it off before he could get there. He lowered his shaking hand to his lap and dropped his gaze.

 _The queen's been taken._ That was a critical piece in a game of chess. Without it… He had to wonder what else the mad doctor had in mind for him… for all of them, since they were all just pawns…

What was his endgame?

"Is this all just… one big game for you?" Tony whispered, not expecting a response.

But yet, Fennhoff still somehow heard him. "Why, yes," he answered, hist one light and chipper. "And we are moving along quite nicely, if I do say so myself. You are being stubborn, although I am not concern. Your father was, too." He grinned when he noticed his captive flinch ever so slightly. "Hopefully you have learned from your misstep. We will get you to move yet, Mr. Stark."

The billionaire glared up at him. "And what… what do you gain from all of this, exactly?" he snapped. "The Avengers are already done. What more do you want from us?" He paused, sucking in a deep breath through his nose. "All right, I get that you want me to join your merry little band of criminals. You wanted to kill Clint because he… what… took something from you? Where do you go now? Where does this all end? What is your grand prize if you win this game?"

Something in the back of his mind, something that the fake Obadiah Stane had said, was nagging at him now… but he couldn't quite remember… _What was it?_ What had he said that had been so important…?

Why couldn't he remember anything he'd read about the doctor in the Hydra files he'd pored over so often? Anything that could help him figure out his plan, to figure out how to stop him…

" _When_ I win this game," Fennhoff corrected tersely, almost seeming a bit annoyed. But then, a grin spread across his face, a look that caused chills to run through his captive. "There are pieces in play that you do not even know about yet, Mr. Stark. We are just getting started. We have not yet brought our second player into this game. But he will be soon."

 _Second player_? Tony grit his teeth as the other man slowly walked past him toward the door. Deep down, he felt like he knew who that was supposed to be, but for the life of him, he couldn't think of it…

 _Damn it all…_

Arsen and Bao rose from their seats, leaving their chessboard where it was, before they followed Fennhoff out of the room. The door locked behind them.

Tony remained kneeling where he was on the patterned rug, simply staring at his bruised and battered reflection looking back at him from the dark television screen. Where he had possibly just watched Clint die.

 _Your fault your fault your fault your fault your…_

His own voice echoed in his head, taunting him. But it was right. The archer's death _was_ his fault since it was something he could have prevented…

He stumbled to his feet, holding onto the television for balance for a moment when his equilibrium nearly betrayed him. His eyes remained solely on the chessboard in front of him, and he walked around the device until he reached the game board. His gaze passed over the pieces, his breath quickening and his heart pounding in his chest as he read all of their names where they were strategically placed on the checkered squares…

A loud cry of frustration broke through his lips as he reached out and flipped the board over before falling to his knees in scattered pieces. He reached out a shaking hand, picking up a few to see what they were.

 _Steve… Pepper… Rhodey… Natasha… Wanda… Happy…_

Tony let them drop back to the floor as he let out a long, shuddering breath. He closed his eyes tightly and covered his head with his arms, gasping before a broken sob escaped from him.

* * *

"So. You first saw this android at homecoming?"

Peter flinched where he was in the passenger seat next to the head of security as they drove toward the Tower. Michelle and Ned had gotten picked up from the diner by the latter's mother. "Uh, yeah... that's where I first noticed him," he mumbled. "He was asking Toomes about me."

Happy let out a heavy sigh as he turned onto a side street with not much traffic. "Why didn't you say anything about it then?" he pressed, traces of frustration in his voice. "That's an important thing to tell us, kid. It could mean you're on who took Tony's radar. Natasha and Sam were right there to help look into it. And it isn't the first case of androids we've had."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," the teen replied. "I should have said something. I…" But then, he paused, his eyes narrowing. "Wait. There have been _other_ androids around? Why didn't someone tell _me_?"

The head of security appeared uncomfortable for a moment. "There… nothing came of it," he finally said with a quiet clear of his throat. "They're taken care of, it was overall a non-issue. Unlike yours. They attacked Rhodey down by the ferry port when he and Vision were helping with clean-up efforts the night that body was discovered. Clint and… I don't know, that ant guy… took care of them."

Peter looked away, hoping the man couldn't see the disappointment that crossed his face. He'd been under the impression that he was part of this team, part of this mission to find Tony and bring him home. Why hadn't anyone trusted him with _that_ important detail? It could have made a difference with his situation. Besides, he'd taken care of his android without too much trouble. He was more than capable to help out with this mission.

"So. Your android?"

The web-slinger was brought out of his racing thoughts before he looked over at him. "What?"

Happy sighed again. "Your android. How'd it find you?" he asked.

"Oh. I… I don't know, exactly," Peter answered. "It disappeared pretty quickly when Black Widow and Falcon showed up. And I haven't seen it since. Not until tonight."

"So… it just randomly found you at the diner?" the older man continued, arching an eyebrow. "You sure it hasn't been following you?"

Peter's stomach dropped. Admittedly, he hadn't considered that… Even though there'd been a couple times where he'd felt like he'd been being watched on his way to and from his place and the Tower. And just because he'd never seen the android those times didn't mean it hadn't been there. What about May? Had he put her in danger? Maybe… maybe Steve had made a mistake with accepting him to the team, after all… He'd just been so wrapped up in what the android had represented, and in what was going on, that he hadn't thought…

"I… I guess it's possible…" he conceded quietly.

Happy drummed his fingers against the wheel as he stopped at a quiet intersection. "See, kid. That's why you should have said something about this right away. It could have been taken care of sooner. And you weren't just putting yourself in danger, but those around you, too. You could be in some real trouble here, kid."

"I know, and I said I'm sorry, okay?" Peter snapped. He sighed, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes. "Sorry. I didn't mean that, either…"

A moment of silence dragged out between them as Happy kept driving. "Look. I know you're under a lot of stress, kid. We all are," he muttered. "But that's why it's important that from now on, we're all on the same page. We all look out for each other. And we'll figure out what's happening. Agreed?"

The teen nodded, swallowing the lump that had begun to form in his throat. "Yeah," he agreed, passing a hand over his face. "I guess I didn't say anything about the android sooner because… I don't know… it was so personal…"

The head of security's brow furrowed. "Personal how?" he asked.

A thin line of tears formed in Peter's eyes as he looked over at him. "Can we just keep this between you and me for now, Happy?"

"Yeah. Sure thing, kid," Happy told him. "You've got my word. What's going on?"

The web-slinger took a deep, shuddering breath. "I haven't had these powers too long," he explained quietly. "But before I did… my Uncle Ben and I were out spending the day together. He and my aunt raised me after my parents died when I was little."

Happy simply nodded, encouraging him to continue. He thought back to when shortly after the explosion had happened, to when Peter had been calling out for his uncle in his sleep on their way to the hospital.

"And some guy was robbing this lady. My uncle and I went after him, but… the man shot him before running." The teen paused as a couple tears leaked from his eyes. "It's why I do what I do, y'know? Help those who deserve it, help out the little guy…"

"Right. That's commendable, kid," Happy said. "Sorry to hear about your uncle. What happened to the other guy?"

"He was hit by a car as he was running away," Peter told him. "Died on sight."

Happy was silent for a couple more minutes as he mulled this all over. "So this android," he pressed. "It wasn't made to look like your uncle, was it?"

Peter shook his head. "Like the man who killed him."

The older man nodded. Either way would have been cruel. "So, I'm guessing that this story was public knowledge?" he wondered. "With the guy and everything?"

"Yeah," the web-slinger confirmed. "It was all over the news. My uncle was pretty well-known in the community for the charitable stuff he was involved with."

"So it wouldn't take much for someone to find out about who had taken his life." Happy frowned. "But still, that's too personal for it to not mean something… Cap and everyone are following up on some possible leads as to who's responsible for what happened at the harbor. I'll run this past them, too, to see if it fits in the MO, though I don't see how it _couldn't_ be connected…"

Peter perked up a bit. He remembered when he'd been on the phone with Steve how he'd heard them talking about someone named Fennhoff in the background. He still wasn't sure why they'd been talking about his school psychologist, if it was indeed the same person, even though the man was a bit strange…

He was just a frail old man. He couldn't have possibly been responsible for everything going on… could he?

"Cap also wants to have a word with you."

The teen's train of thought was derailed by the head of security's simple statement. He was aware the Super Soldier wanted to discuss the android attack with him, but he didn't think he'd feel this nervous if that was all it was. "About what…?" he asked quietly.

Happy shrugged slightly. "About their suspicions, to catch you up to speed, tell you to be careful, things like that," he answered. "That was the impression I got, anyway."

Peter slowly looked away again, absently watching the lit streetlamps and traffic go by. There was a feeling deep in his gut that it was more than that, and he couldn't shake the impression that the Captain was going to inform him that he was in trouble for something.

"Did the android say anything to you?"

"Uh, yeah," the teen muttered. "It… it said it could bring me to where Mr. Stark is."

The car jerked roughly as Happy nearly slammed on the brakes. " _It what_?"

"I… I don't know if it was telling the truth," Peter mumbled as he readjusted his seatbelt. He figured it wouldn't be the best idea to mention the threat made against his life. "But it's my guess that it was definitely sent by whoever took Mr. Stark. It had something that I think belongs to him."

The head of security attempted to keep his face impassive as he slowly eased up to the speed limit again. "What was it?" he wondered.

"Oh, here. I can show…" But Peter's words slowly trailed off when his senses suddenly started to _scream_ at him that something was _wrong_. That they were in _immediate_ danger. He quickly looked at the night around them with wide eyes, but he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary… He just knew that they had to get _out of there_.

"Kid?" Happy prompted impatiently. "Earth to Peter? You there, kid?"

Peter's breath caught in his chest as the hair on his arms stood on end, and he looked back at the head of security with fear. "Happy, stop the car!"

Happy's brow furrowed. "Why? We're not even near the Tower yet…"

"Just stop the damn car!" Peter was already beginning to undo his seatbelt. "Hurry up! Just… wherever you can! We have to get out! _Now_!"

Though he looked incredibly wary and perplexed, Happy pulled into the large, not-too-crowded parking lot of a Taco Bell near the back away from everyone else and slowed the car to a stop. He put the car in park as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "You're acting _really_ weird, kid, we're gonna have a _long_ talk about this," he muttered as he reached for his keys.

"No! Don't bother." The web-slinger slapped his hand away before he all but pushed him out of the car and scrambled out of the driver's side after him. "Just _move_! Come on, come on, go! We have to call for help!"

Happy stumbled a little as Peter shoved him roughly forward as he hurried toward the brightly lit building. "Okay, that's it." He planted his feet, nearly causing Peter to fall on his face with his own momentum before leveling him with his best glare. "What the _hell_ do you think you're doing, kid? We _don't_ have time for this right now. I-!"

But the teen grabbed his arm and yanked him after him a few more feet. "Happy, _please_ just trust me," he said anxiously. "I know it's weird, and I can't explain it, but I-!"

Suddenly, a loud _boom_ shook the night around them. A tremor ran through the ground, causing both Peter and Happy to fall and hit the cracked asphalt roughly as a blast of heat rushed over them and an intense flash of light lit up the area.

Car alarms in the lot around them went off, beeping out of sync with each other in an awkwardly annoying melody. Raised voices of concern came from nearly every direction as people ran out of the restaurant to investigate. A few surrounding streetlamps had been blasted out by the impact of the pulse.

Happy coughed a few times from where he'd had the wind knocked out of him after he'd been thrown off his feet. He pushed himself up on one arm, looking up at where Peter was already sitting up next to him, shaking. "You… you all right, kid?" he managed to ask, reaching out and grabbing his arm.

The teen only nodded, staring straight ahead of him with wide eyes.

The head of security followed his horrified gaze, and his stomach plummeted at the sight.

His trusty black car was in flames, thick smoke billowing out of the trunk. Where the android was.

They had nearly been in that car…

"… Holy shit…"

* * *

 _"Are you feeling calm? Relax your breathing… In. Out. Yes, that's it. Ease the tension out of your body with each breath. Good, good. Close your eyes. That's it… Now."_

 _A pause._

 _"Let's discuss your experience with Project Rebirth."_

Steve took a deep breath, clenching his jaw as he stared straight ahead and tightened his hands around the controls of the quinjet. Ever since Zemo had told him that it had been Fennhoff who had sought him out, since he'd figure out that it was Fennhoff who had taken Tony, since it's been clear that the doctor was trying to drag him back in… when he'd been able to get away…

No, he couldn't let himself get distracted now. He had a mission to complete. And the mission came first.

He couldn't afford to let the doctor get in his head. He would deal with his personal issues with the man later. When people on his team weren't at risk.

Natasha glanced at him with concern from where she was sitting in the seat behind him before glancing at where Sam and Vision were standing near the door at the back of the jet. "We're approaching the warehouse," she informed them.

The abandoned area was still and silent as they drew closer to their destination. Though there were intense bursts of scarlet light visible in one sector of the warehouse as a couple of the windows there shattered.

Vision's eyes narrowed. Sam nodded once as he turned to the controls that operated the door. "Okay, give me a sec, and I'll-!"

But before he could finish, the android phased through the side of the quinjet and flew straight toward the warehouse. Sam nodded slightly with a quiet tsk. "All right, that works, too…"

"Do you have your mask, Sam?" Steve asked over his shoulder.

"Yup, got it." Sam slipped the face mask over his head, making sure that it was secure over his nose and mouth. He then hit the control that opened the door, and he rolled out his neck before he turned back tot hem with a thumb's up. "See y'all on the ground."

Natasha watched as his metallic wings unfurled as he leapt from the jet, diving down toward the warehouse as he followed the AI. She then unbuckled her seatbelt and got up to shut the door again before returning to the front of the jet. She sighed, setting her hand on Steve's shoulder lightly.

"How are you holding up?" she asked.

"I'm fine," the Captain told her, his tone quiet and even.

Natasha quirked an eyebrow. "Wanna try that one again?"

A defeated smile passed over Steve's face as he glanced over at her. "Can't get anything past you, can I?" he wondered lightly.

"Afraid not," Natasha murmured, lifting her hand from him before leaning against the seat with her arms crossed. She hesitated. "I know… bits and pieces of what you went through with Fennhoff. What you _both_ did." She paused when a dark look passed over the Super Soldier's face.

"Don't, Nat."

"I won't." The former KGB agent's gaze faltered, a bit taken aback by the ferocity behind the calm in his quiet voice. She raised her gaze to the windshield in front of them, her sharp gaze lingering on the red pulses of light in the warehouse windows.

A moment of silence passed before Steve sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too." Natasha looked back at him with concern. "All I was gonna say is be careful. Don't let Fennhoff get in your head. You can't afford that."

The Captain kept his gaze straight ahead. "I won't," he assured her.

"He already might be." Natasha noticed him about to protest and pushed ahead before he could. "He's already called you out twice, Steve. Have you even stopped to consider that what he wants is-!"

"Right now, I'm more concerned about getting Clint, Wanda, and Lang out of there," Steve told her in a tone that was clear he was putting an end to the conversation. He passed a hand over his face. "He won't be there, Nat."

"But someone who works for him is," Natasha countered. "Clint wouldn't have shot himself in the leg, no matter how far gone he may be. And someone released that gas…"

"We're taking precautionary measures."

"I know." Natasha set her hand on his shoulder again and squeezed it gently. "I'll do the same, but promise me that you won't let your emotions involving Fennhoff and what he did control you. Our team's lives depend on it. Promise me, Steve."

The Super Soldier flinched ever so slightly, her words almost a slap to the face. But he knew that she was right. And he knew that he could keep himself in control while stepping into Fennhoff's snare. He had to. He had to for Clint, for Wanda, for Scott. He had to for the rest of his team. He had to for Tony. He couldn't let the mad doctor in his head, not again. Not like last time.

It was with a renewed confidence that he was able to respond to her request.

"I promise."

 **Author's Note** : So Clint's really not good, Tony's not in the greatest of spots, Peter's in a bit more trouble now, and Steve's remembering his time with Fennhoff. All these threads do tie together as far as what Fennhoff wants, and here's where they're going to really start weaving as we keep going. Just what's he up to? We'll find out! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Until next time, guys!


	25. Chapter 25- Of Monsters and Men

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit. I do own the OC in this chapter, however.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Hey, guys! Thanks for the reviews, follows, and favorites! They mean a lot to me! So, with the release of _Endgame_ , I'm just gonna say that this story will _**NOT**_ be a spoiler for that movie. So no worries there. If there's anything at all that could be a potential spoiler, I'll make a note before the chapter starts. So, everyone's in pretty hot water. Let's see how they'll get out of it!

 _Chapter 25– Of Monsters and Men_

The entire production area was filled with a brilliant crimson as Vision phased through the door. His light eyes narrowed in concern as he scanned the vast room, seeing that most of the overhead lights had shattered and quite a bit of the machinery had been crushed. While he was hovering a few feet above the ground, he could still feel the very warehouse around him shaking with each pulse of power, knowing the foundation could not stand much more. If he did not act quickly, the entire place could crumble around them, and everyone still trapped inside or trying to rescue them would die.

He could not allow that to happen. He knew he was the only one who could get close enough to Wanda to stop her when she was like this to stop this calamity. Though he would still have to proceed with caution. The bond that connected them through the Stone was a beautiful thing, but it was also a dangerous one. While he always attempted to assuage her fears, she did have the power to harm him if she weren't careful, possibly even to terminate his existence. And in the shape she was in…

The android stopped that thought before it could get any further. No matter what… no matter the rage, the sheer pain, the heartbreak he could feel so strongly from her and so intimately that the emotions were nearly his own… she was still Wanda. And he could get through to her.

Another strong blast of energy nearly knocked him out of the air as Vision descended the steps, landing on the floor as sparks flew from a control panel next to him. He slowly made his way toward the epicenter of the power surge, closing his eyes as he focused on himself. He could feel his body, his skin, stretching and retracting as the molecules of his physical essence shifted and changed into a form he hoped would help to calm her. He opened his eyes and looked down at his human-esque hands before running one through his light, tousled hair and down the sharp lines and angles of his face and faintly stubbled chin. His gaze passed over the black pants and gray mid-length sleeved shirt he wore, the unthreatening attire meeting his approval as he continued toward where he felt Wanda was. He noticed the vent above his head where a light, translucent mist was seeping into the room, and the spot where the Stone rested in the middle of his forehead glowed faintly. The hallucinogenic gas dissipated before fading completely.

Hopefully stopping her exposure to it would help him reach her. Even though he knew, he could feel, how far gone she already was.

Vision then turned to where he felt her power emanating from, and he took slow, even steps past what used to be a fully functioning assembly line until he saw her. Wanda was standing with her back to him, her scarlet power crackling around her like lightning. Her hands were spread out on either side of her, most of the energy concentrated in her palms and twirling around her ringed fingers, the definite cause of the destruction around her.

He took another small, cautious step forward. "Wanda," he murmured, his voice calm and even, not wanting to startle her.

Another burst of crimson power pulsed around her as she quickly spun to face him, the ends of her light hair standing on end. The AI's gaze faltered when he saw the dark look on her face and the red light that ringed her pupils. This was exactly what he'd feared. There was no sign of her anywhere.

Wanda slowly finished turning to face him, a cruel smirk appearing at the corner of her lips. She brought her hands to rest in front of her, a crackling ball of energy appearing between her palms. "Are you happy now?" she asked in just above a whisper. There was an eeriness, a cruelty, in her quiet voice that didn't suit her. "You twisted us into monsters. And you finally have them."

Vision hesitated before he took another step, raising his hands on either side of him in a placating manner. It was only himself and Wanda, so he wasn't sure what she was referring to. It was also clear that she wasn't seeing him under the influence of the gas, realizing it was either Strucker or Fennhoff judging by her words. He would have to be extremely careful with her.

"Wanda. Dear," he attempted, making sure his voice remained low. Calm. "No matter what you are being made to think, this is not you. You are not–!"

"No, this is me. The _real_ me I've been trying to hide from the world!" Wanda's voice rose, the space between them charged with the intensity of the flickering scarlet energy around her. She laughed, the sound sharp, piercing. "The me that everyone was made to fear. Well, I say _let_ them fear me. They _should_ fear me! I am tired of being afraid of you, of who I am. So here I am. This is what _you_ wanted!"

The android shook his head sadly, knowing that his words were not going to be enough to reach her. He took another step, making sure to not make any sudden movements that would set her off. "Wanda, please. If you would just listen…"

" _Enough_!"

An intense flash of energy blinded him. Vision grunted when the force of her power collided with him, knocking him off his feet. He hit the ground hard, finding he was unable to move as the light flickered and faded. He winced as he slowly sat up, his blue eyes widening with a gasp when he saw the left side of his body was flickering, sparking… going from the red skin and gray uniform of his true form and the lightly tanned human skin he was attempting to maintain for her. A burning pain traveled up and down the affected area. He tried to push himself to his feet, but he bit back a cry as he weakly sank back to a knee. He just didn't have the strength, there was too much pain…

Her power had done this…

Wanda smirked again as she slowly, agonizingly, made her way to him, another ball of red energy already forming between her slender fingers. "Look at you know… brought low before me…" she murmured with false pity. "As it should be… killed at the hands of your own creation…"

Vision raised his head to look up at her. Through the pain, the fire spreading through half of his body, he managed to give her a small smile. "Wanda, I… I am not afraid of you," he whispered. "You are not… the monster people fear… I do not see that in you…"

She inclined her head. "Then you are blind."

The second blast of energy collided right in the center of his chest, and Vision cried out as he was forced backward. He landed on his back, his body trembling as the visage of himself he'd been fighting to maintain faded away completely to his true one. He could hardly move, his body weak as his eyes drooped closed.

Wanda knelt beside him, delicately tracing her fingers over his red cheek. "How does it feel?" she wondered, a tendril of crimson light twirling around her index one. She softly poked his chest, sending her power through him as she caused his body to seize. Though he refused to scream. Her eyes narrowed angrily. "Once I am through with you, we will bring this damned hellhole crashing down, and all of you monsters who made us this way will die. Then the world will see us for what we are. Together, we will show them. And they will be right to fear!"

 _Pietro_ … She had to be talking about her brother… If only he still lived…

Vision forced his eyes to open, finding her scarlet ones above him. He reached out, lightly brushing his hand against her arm before she flinched away from the touch. "You… you are not a monster…" he managed to say through gritted teeth as she continued her attack. "Wanda… dear… they may not see you as I do, but… do not give in…"

Wanda's smirk returned as she increased the power behind the energy she was sending into him. Vision convulsed as a quiet sound of pain broke past his lips. A gleam appeared in her eye when she heard it. "It is far too late for that, your words cannot move me."

The android warily looked up at Wanda again, giving her a shaky smile. "You… cannot hurt… me…" His voice came out as hardly more than a breath. But he had her right where he needed her to be. The Stone in the middle of his forehead began to glow a faint yellow.

Her gaze flickered to the sudden light, and curiosity appeared in her dark features. "What is this?" she asked, moving her finger away from his chest. Vision let out a sigh of relief once the energy attack stopped. But then, blinding agony rocked his skull as a few tendrils of the scarlet light snaked their way into the Stone.

Wanda smiled, the look cruel, as his scream echoed around her. "It seems I _can_ hurt…" she began, but her words slowly trailed off when the Stone gave off a brighter burst of light in response to her energy, forcing hers out. The AI's pained sound stopped abruptly as his chest heaved, gasping, though her gaze remained fixated on the warm yellow light in his forehead. She leaned closer, feeling as though she was being pulled into its embrace as it enfolded her in its warmth, its safety.

Vision slowly opened his eyes when he felt her lingering close, seeing that the malice and darkness was easing out of her features. He reached out and weakly took her hand in his slightly shaking one, focusing on the memories he had of them together… the laughs, the smiles, the quiet moments in each other's arms, the stolen kisses… and made sure she could feel the warmth, the affection, in them, too. "Wanda… dear… You are not a monster," he muttered. "You cannot… hurt me…"

The crimson around her pupils began to fade, replaced with a yellow glow that mirrored his. A moment later, she gasped and shut her eyes as she turned away, wrapping her free arm around herself as she started to tremble. The Stone in the android's forehead stopped glowing, casting them in shadows, as he allowed her body to relax. Relief overtook him.

He could feel _her_ again.

A few long moments passed before Wanda quickly started to look around her, her eyes wide. "Where… where am I…?"

Vision smiled faintly, gently squeezing her hand he still held. "Wanda…"

Wanda quickly turned to face him, and her pain, her fear, her confusion, washed over him in waves. "Vis…? What…?" Then, her eyes widened in horror as she covered her mouth with a shaking hand, tears filling her eyes as she took in his appearance. "Oh, my God… Vis… Did… did _I_ …?"

The android's smile broadened as he reached out and wiped away a couple of her tears that quickly fell. "It is all right, Wanda…" he murmured. "It was not you… not really…"

"It was, though…" Wanda watched as the android struggled to sit up, letting go of his hand to gently ease him up into a sitting position even as her own body continued to tremble. She kept a tight hold on him when he leaned back against her, resting his head weakly on her shoulder. She closed her eyes as more tears fell, pressing her forehead against the top of his. "I… I remember, Vis… It all looked and felt _so_ real… I was in Sokovia again, back in Strucker's lab… All I could see were him, and… and Fennhoff, and… Pietro was here with me, undergoing more experiments, and… and we were going to… to kill them all, and…"

"Shh… You will only upset yourself further, dear." Vision looked up at her with weary eyes, ensuring she met his gaze. "You know better than most the sort of weapons Fennhoff possesses… None of you were expecting someone working for him to… to be here when you arrived… It was an ambush. What you were made to see, to do, was not you…"

"Wasn't it?" Wanda gave him a sad, shaky smile as a couple more tears fell. She took a deep breath, shaking her head slightly. "Yes, I know that the gas makes you hallucinate. Makes you relive your worst nightmares and makes them real. But… what I felt was _real_ , Vis… The rage, the hate… that's all there. Deep down, I feel those things… The gas just brought them out, made me act on them…"

The android's gaze faltered as he looked away briefly.

Wanda sniffed with a mirthless chuckle. "I don't blame you if you hate me now…"

"I could not." Vision turned back to her, reaching up as he set his hand lightly on the back of her neck and softly brushed his thumb over her cheek. "Wanda… the world may see you as this monster that is meant to be feared, but… I do not see you that way. These emotions you feel do not make you a monster. Having emotions is what separates you from the monsters who have done these things to you… and you are right to have them. What you and your brother endured at the hands of Strucker and Fennhoff are things no one should ever endure. Losing your brother, that part of yourself… it is a pain that will always be there." He smiled slightly when she looked at him uncertainly. "Instead of giving into the hatred and the anger, you are using what you have been through for good. Do not let anything sway you from how you have turned your life around for the better, dear."

Wanda took a deep, shuddering breath. "But… but I…" She paused when her tears choked her up. "Vis… I thought I could feel you near, but… I couldn't _see_ you… And I… I hurt you… Oh, God, I could have killed you, Vis…"

The android shook his head, his smile lingering. "You could never," he whispered.

A moment passed where they simply sat close together, their heads lightly touching as Wanda attempted to regain herself. Then, with another quiet sniff, she raised her gaze to the Stone in his forehead, and she slowly raised a shaking hand to where she was almost touching it. Vision watched her curiously as the Stone glowed faintly in response to her closeness, and she closed her eyes as she focused on the ties that connected hem. A gentle scarlet energy appeared around her fingers, the thin tendrils twirling around the yellow light as they entered the Stone. She passed him her strength, hoping to help him heal. She willed him to feel warmth, to feel the happiness she felt whenever she was with him, to feel the peace his presence gave her, the heartfelt affection she had for him…

… Or was it _love_? _Could_ it be love…?

Vision's hand lightly gripping her wrist brought her out of her thoughts. "That is enough, Wanda dear," he advised. "You do not have much strength. Do not waste it on my account."

It wasn't a waste. It could never be, not for him. But Wanda found she couldn't speak the words aloud as she opened her eyes to meet his brighter gaze, and she realized just how exhausted she was from the gas itself. Though she was just relieved to see that the android looked more like himself again. "How… how do you feel…?" she wondered hesitantly.

Vision smiled in return. "I feel you."

Wanda tried to return the look before her eyes drooped closed. "That's not an answer…" she mumbled, her head dropping forward onto her chest.

The android shifted so that he was now supporting her, his arms secure around her while she curled up against his chest. He pressed his lips lightly to the top of her head. "Perhaps not," he agreed quietly. "Though it is the one that matters."

The words caused a smile to spread across her face, allowing herself to revel in the security and warmth of him as she nestled closer to him. But then, her eyes snapped open with a gasp. She reached for the comm in her ear, feeling it was missing and realizing she must have destroyed it. "What about Clint? Scott?"

Vision nodded once. "The others will bring them to safety," he told her.

"Others?"

"Sam, Natasha, and Captain Rogers are also here," the android informed her. "Clint and Mr. Lang will be all right."

Wanda let out a relieved sigh as she nodded once. With Steve leading a rescue mission, her friends would be all right without her. Probably better off even, if she thought about it. She had no idea what sort of damage she'd caused in the warehouse…

Vision smiled slightly as he watched her close her eyes and rest against his chest again. "Let's get you out of here," he murmured. When he only got a quiet sound of agreement in return, his cape appeared around his shoulders. He wrapped it around her, cradling her closer as he lifted her into his arms and headed toward the fastest route to safety.

* * *

The lights around him stopped flickering as the warehouse itself seemed to settle. Sam sighed with relief as he hurried down the hallway in the direction of the basement, knowing that was where Scott was likely to be judging by the security feed they'd been shown. Vision must have gotten to Wanda and had been able to calm her down. Which was a relief, since the energy that had been crackling through the place had had him concerned that the whole thing could've come crashing down at any moment. So that was one less thing to worry about.

He adjusted his mask, making sure that his nose and mouth were both fully covered as he reached the door that led down to the basement, the staircase light still flickering, before he began to run down. It was cold, he noticed immediately, as he reached the bottom of the steps and hurried through the door into the storage area.

"Yo, Tic Tac!" Sam called, his gaze passing over all the disheveled cardboard boxes scattered across the room. A fine, light-colored mist seeping in through the vents above his head permeated the room. He noticed that the other man's Ant-Man helmet was resting on a table next to the door, and he picked it up to give it back to its rightful owner. His goggles picked up a life force off to his right, and he hurried over to the cracked-open freezer door. He slowly pushed it open the rest of the way, and his eyes widened when he caught sight of Scott near the back wall, scratching and clawing at the frozen ground with his gloved hands.

"Cassie… come on… just say something… anything… come on, peanut… oh, God… Cassie…"

 _Who was Cassie?_

Sam hurried forward and dropped to a knee beside the other man, setting a steady hand on his shoulder. "Hey, come on, man… Let's get you out of here…"

But the ex-con pulled away from his touch, continuing his frantic search for this elusive Cassie. "N-no… she's here somewhere, she… She can't be gone… I-I can't… Cassie!"

"We'll find her, man," Sam told him, attempting to remain calm. His brow furrowed when he saw the clear distress on Scott's face, the thin line of tears in his eyes. He wasn't sure what he was seeing as a result of the gas, but whatever it was, he did know that whoever this Cassie was was important to him. "But you need to listen to me now. We need to get out of here. We're in the creepy basement of an old warehouse. We're actually in a freaking freezer. So before we freeze our asses off, we need to leave."

But Scott shook his head as a couple tears trailed down his cheek. Sam wasn't even sure if he'd heard him, or worse, even recognized him. "Cassie… she shouldn't have… I gotta find her… I gotta bring her back…"

Not sure if it would help but knowing he had to do _something_ , Sam took a deep breath before he reached out and slapped the ex-con across the face. It wasn't the first time he'd found himself with someone who was so lost in themselves that they needed a little help in being brought back to reality, and the small, sharp contact had helped in some of these cases. Since he was dealing with an exterior force in the gas, he was a little more hopeful that it would get him somewhere now.

"Scott. Listen to what I'm saying," he said firmly. He couldn't play into the illusions for his sake. "I don't know who Cassie is, but she ain't here. It's just you and me. And a couple other super people, and possibly someone working for a mad man who wants to kills us all, I don't know. But right now, it's just you and me. I need you to focus on that, can you do that? We're on our own in the basement of an old, creepy warehouse. You've been exposed to a hallucinogenic, so whatever you're seeing, it ain't real. All right? You can't let Fennhoff beat you, Tic Tac. I know you can beat him. You with me?"

A moment passed where Scott didn't say a word, but his frantic movements, his search for whoever Cassie was, stilled. It was a small improvement, but one he would definitely take.

The ex-con then groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head a bit as he slumped forward. Sam immediately reached out and caught him before he could hit the hard, icy ground. He wasn't sure if the other man had just tired himself out, or if the gas also caused any sorts of physical weakness other than the hallucinations it caused.

"… Where… where am I…?"

Sam smiled slightly. "We'll talk about it once we get out of here," he told him. "But we gotta do that first. Can you stand?"

Scott looked back at him, and Sam noticed the dim, faraway look in his eyes as confusion crossed his face. There was still no indication that he recognized him at all. "I… I don't know…" He looked around them, his brow furrowing.

"All right. I'll help ya. Just work with me, Tic Tac." Sam wrapped an arm sturdily around him, making sure to keep a hold of the other man's helmet. "On the count of three, okay? One. Two. Three."

It took a little effort, but Sam managed to get both of them on their feet. Scott immediately leaned into him with a shuddering breath, and he took his arm and wrapped it around his neck to help support him. "Hey, hold onto this for me, will ya?" the latter asked, offering the Ant-Man helmet to its owner. Scott looked down at it with confusion before taking it in his free hand. Sam then tightened his hold around the ex-con's waist. "All right. Come on, man, let's go…"

Scott didn't say a word as he allowed himself to be led out of the freezer, his steps slow and unsteady as he nearly slipped on the icy floor. Sam made sure to keep him on his feet, staring straight ahead of them as they entered the basement and made their way toward the staircase that would bring them out of this nightmare.

"All right, Tic Tac. One step at a time now, okay?"

The other man didn't respond as they staggered their way up the first few steps, cringing in pain as he stumbled and crashed to a knee while nearly dropping his helmet.

Sam sighed, adjusting his hold on the other man to try to find a better way of supporting him. "It's all right, just take it easy…" he murmured, glancing nervously at the light mist still seeping into the room. "One step at a time… okay?"

But the ex-con just shook his head, taking a deep, shuddering breath. He looked behind them at the open door of the freezer, a lost, defeated, and almost haunted look in his eye as he took in whatever it was that he was seeing. A couple more tears fell and ran down his cheeks.

"… I'm so sorry, peanut…"

* * *

As soon as the quinjet landed in the back of the dark, nearly empty parking lot save for a familiar black car, Natasha was on her feet and pushing the controls that would open the door. She hurried down the ramp, pausing only briefly to make sure the facial mask was covering her nose and mouth completely before she started to cross the lot at a quick pace. Her sharp gaze scanned the warehouse looming before her intently, though she noticed that there were no more flashes of crimson. There were no other signs of life.

Which, she realized, could either be a good or bad thing for them.

The image of Clint struggling with a broken arrow deep in his leg flashed through her mind, and she shuddered. There were many things he could possibly be seeing, could be fighting against, because of the gas, and each possibility was worse than the last. _Hold on, Clint… I'll be there in a minute… Don't let Fennhoff win… please…_

The former KGB agent stopped when her foot brushed something hard and heavy, causing whatever it was to clatter against the asphalt as it skidded a little bit away from her. She looked down, her eyes widening when she recognized the red and silver drone as she reached out and gingerly picked him up. _Redwing_. At least they now knew where he was. But what concerned her was that he had been compromised at all. She'd have to return him to Sam when she got the chance.

Natasha glanced behind her at the quinjet, seeing that Steve still wasn't following her. While she wondered what was keeping him, she knew that he'd be fine and that he'd catch up with her when he could. She had to get to Clint.

When she drew closer to the warehouse, she saw that Vision was kneeling on the ground with Wanda in his arms. She was leaning heavily against him, his cape wrapped around her protectively. The android wasn't saying a word, but the Stone in the center of his forehead was faintly glowing. Despite the tears that were still silently falling from her eyes, despite the shock and the fear that was still so plain on her face, she was staring at the yellow light as though transfixed. She slowly reached out and brushed the Stone with her fingertips. They both appeared to be the worse for wear, but at the affectionate, intimate contact, Vision gave her a small, comforting smile, and a sense of ease seemed to pass over Wanda as she attempted to return the look.

At least the younger woman seemed calmer and had been extracted from the situation so that the warehouse was now stabilized. But still, Natasha couldn't bring herself to be comforted, not completely. Not yet. Not everyone was out yet…

Then, she quickly looked up when the front door opened, and she watched as Sam brought a clearly distraught and still panicked Scott out to the parking lot. "It's all right, Tic Tac," the former muttered as he lowered his facial mask, trying to keep the ex-con steady as he dropped his helmet and attempted to scramble away. "We're outta there now. I've got you, man… Just breathe. Breathe in that fresh air, okay, man? That'll help clear it out…"

"Sam!" Natasha hurried over to them. She was nearly knocked off balance when Scott bumped into her as he continued to attempt to escape. "Did you see Clint?"

A moment passed before Sam met her gaze. She knew by the hesitation in his eyes that his answer wasn't going to be a good one. "No, I didn't," he said, looking down when Scott finally dropped to his knees as a broken sob escaped from him. He crouched next to him, setting a secure hand on his shoulder. "I thought I might have seen another body on my radar on our way out… somewhere on the second floor, but… I gotta tell you, Nat. It wasn't very… vibrant."

A cold dread settled in Natasha's chest as she turned back to the warehouse. Not very vibrant wasn't a good indication…

"Oh, hey, you found him." Sam reached out and carefully took Redwing from her, though Natasha barely noticed. "I'll check him out, see what happened to cause the interference, when we're back on the jet…"

At that moment, Scott shrugged Sam's hand away as he crawled desperately away from them. But he came to a stop when another pair of strong hands grasped his shoulders. He fought against them for a moment before accepting it as another quiet sob escaped from him.

"It's all right, Lang," Steve said gently from where he was crouched in front of him, a sad look passing over his face as he held onto the other man as he trembled. "It'll wear off soon. Just breathe for me. Deep breaths, now…"

Natasha looked back at him, not having even heard him approach. Her brow furrowed. "Where's your mask?" she pressed.

"Strap broke," the Captain told her, keeping his attention on Scott.

She cursed under her breath. That was all she needed to know that she was going in alone, at least for the time being. The assassin hardly heard Sam offer the other man his mask while Steve told him to watch after Scott as she ran to the warehouse and disappeared through the door her friends had escaped through without looking back.

Clint needed her. She refused to believe that it was too late to get him out. She couldn't leave him behind. He hadn't left her behind when he could have…

The halls were empty and silent as she quickly made her way through them, a fact that was concerning to her in itself. There had to be some sort of sign of life from him, there _had_ to be…

"Clint!" Natasha yelled as she reached a place where a second hall met the dark one she was in. "Clint, where are you?" She came to a stop in a pile of glass shards, quickly glancing above her head to see that the lights had shattered. She glanced to her right, seeing a broken vending machine was at the very end of this hall. And across from it, she could vaguely make out a set of stairs in the faint moonlight.

Second floor. Sam had said he'd seen a lingering trace of life somewhere on the second floor, and the vending machine looked familiar from the security feed…

Natasha pulled a small pocket flashlight out of her vest and aimed it down the hall that led to the stairs, her eyes widening when she saw the fine, light-colored mist that had filled the space. There was no doubt in her mind that the archer had been here. She hurried down the hall, grateful that her face was covered with how much of the hallucinogenic there was, before she came to a stop at the foot of the steps when a few spots and smears of dark crimson caught her eye. Her heart sank as she directed the flashlight beam toward them.

Blood. And a healthy amount of it.

"Clint!"

When she still got no answer, Natasha took the stairs two at a time– doing her best to ignore the trail of blood splatter that was leading her to her destination– until she reached the second level. She nearly tripped over something when she took a few steps down the hall, and the thin beam of the flashlight revealed a weapon she knew all too well.

The assassin bent down and picked up the familiar black bow. There was even more blood around it. She folded up the weapon and put it in her vest for safe keeping.

"Clint!"

She did a quick sweep of the hallway with the flashlight adding to the faint moonlight, and her heart nearly stopped when she caught sight of something a bit further down the hall. A lifeless human body– once she knew immediately.

" _Clint_!"

Natasha sprinted ahead as quickly as she could and dropped to her knees next to the archer, who was lying on his back on the floor with his face turned away from her. She gasped when she saw the arrow that was deep in his chest, his dark tank top stained with blood, and when she realized she was kneeling in more of the very life that was slowly seeping out of him.

Hesitating only briefly, she reached out and set two fingers on the side of Clint's neck to check for a pulse, holding her breath since she was uncertain of what she would find. She wasn't even sure if he was breathing since he was lying much too still…

"Come on, Clint, don't do this to me… Breathe, Barton…"

She let out a sigh of relief when she saw his chest briefly rise and fall, dread flowing through her when she finally found his pulse but felt it was much took quick and very faint.

He wouldn't last much longer.

 _No…_ She couldn't let herself think that. She would save him. She _had to_ …

"Clint, can you hear me?" the assassin wondered, reaching her hand out and carefully turning his head so that she could see his face. Her gaze faltered when she saw how deathly pale he was, but then her eyes widened when she noticed the thin trails of blood coming from his ears. "Clint, please… give me something, here…"

However, she received no response from the archer. But she refused to give up on him. Natasha brushed her thumb over his cheek, concerned when she felt that his skin was cool and clammy to the touch. She carefully lifted one of his eyelids, seeing in the light from her flashlight that that pupil was enlarged. She balanced it between her cheek and her shoulder before setting her now free hand on his chest, not too far from the arrow, feeling that his body was trembling ever so slightly.

He was slipping into shock.

Natasha cursed under her breath, knowing that she was going to need some help getting him to safety in his condition. "Steve!" she called, hoping that the Super Soldier had been able to get into the warehouse. But the first floor was silent.

Which was also a good thing. She knew that the archer couldn't have possibly caused this injury to himself, and with all of her senses on overdrive, she knew that the two of them were alone. Whoever she had seen on the security feed, whoever had attacked her best friend, was nowhere to be seen.

The assassin turned her attention back to Clint, focusing on the arrow in his chest. If he was going to be moved as safely as possible, that would have to be broken down. She couldn't risk jostling it at all, not with its location…

Natasha sighed, reaching out and grasping the arrow shaft with both hands. It wasn't the first time she'd been in this position. There had been a couple of times on missions, one in Budapest that she remembered vividly, where she'd had to help him tend to the arrow wounds like this when he'd been injured. But not on her own. Not when the arrow was in such a critical spot. Not when his condition was already so grievous…

She shook her head slightly, taking a deep, steadying breath as she attempted to calm down. She had to for his sake. She couldn't be distracted. If she should slip…

It was a thought she shut down immediately. It was one she couldn't afford.

"I'm sorry, Clint… This is gonna hurt," she whispered. She held her breath, waited for her heartbeat to even out. Then, keeping the arrow as still as possible by the entry wound with one hand, she quickly snapped it with her other.

A violent tremor traveled through Clint's body at the action, and distress crossed his face as a pained whimper broke through his lips. At least there was a sign of life… His trembling became more severe, his breath came shakily as he gasped for air.

The assassin reached out for him after she tossed the piece of the arrow aside and set the flashlight down, seeing that her hands were covered in his blood, and carefully brought him close to her. She cradled his head against her shoulder, wrapping her other arm as securely as she could around him so as not to cause any further injury as she attempted to keep him as still as possible.

"It's all right, Clint. I'm right here," she murmured, resting her forehead against he top of his. "Help will be here soon… okay? You're gonna be fine…" At least, that's what she had to tell him. For herself. She closed her eyes, unable to do anything more as he continued to shake against her, his breathing growing more and more labored.

"… Don't you _dare_ leave me now, Barton…" she hissed angrily. "So help me God, I will _never_ forgive you if you do…"

Then, she lifted her head a little when she heard that he was mumbling something, his weak, rough voice anxious. "What? Clint, I can't hear you…"

Clint took a few more rapid breaths before he tried to speak again, his lips trembling with effort. "… B… B-Barney…"

Natasha's eyes narrowed when she heard the name of his older brother, knowing that whatever he'd seen involving him because of the gas couldn't have been good. She gently shushed him, brushing her fingers through his hair in a calming motion. "Not even close, it's Tasha," she quipped quietly, chuckling a little as she tried to keep her tone light for him. He'd been through hell, he didn't need her freaking out on him, too. "Nice try, though."

A minute passed before Clint's eyes slowly fluttered open. Her heart could have broken open in relief. His harsh breath quickened a bit as he looked around them with wide, glazed eyes until his gaze landed on the assassin's face near his. He stared up at her for a long moment, his brow furrowed in confusion, and he looked around them one more time before he came to rest on her again. She wondered if her blonde hair and the mask covering half her face were making it harder for him to recognize her in his state. While she hadn't seen any of Fennhoff's hallucinogenic gas on the second floor, she couldn't risk taking the mask off, just in case. She couldn't help him if she were to be exposed, too.

But then, his eyes cleared ever so slightly when they focused on here. "Ta… Tasha…?"

Natasha tightened her hold on him, careful of the arrow. "Yup, you got it," she said brightly. "How are you feeling, Clint?"

The archer didn't move his gaze from what was visible of her face for another moment before he reached out a weak, trembling hand and touched her arm. As though he was trying to reassure himself that she was real. When he seemed to accept that she was, the creases in his forehead eased a bit, and he allowed his still shaking body to relax a little in her arms.

The assassin breathed a sigh of relief. "Clint, just hold on for a little longer, okay? Help should be on the–!"

Clint suddenly tensed, a quiet cry of pain breaking through his lips as his face paled further. A couple of violent tremors racked his frame as he grasped t the arrow still in his chest. Natasha lightly took his hand and moved it away from the wound so that he wouldn't accidentally hurt himself further before she attempted to steady and calm him as she carefully secured her hold around him.

"Whoa, Clint, try not to move so–!"

"N-no… no…" The archer seemed not to hear her as he then started to frantically try to push her away, though there was no strength behind the action. He quickly looked around them again, his eyes slightly wide as he appeared to be on the lookout for some sort of impending threat. "N-Nat… you have to… you ha-have to g-go…"

Natasha's eyes narrowed as she kept her hold on him despite his efforts to make her leave. "What the hell are you talking about? I'm not…"

"N-no… You don't understand…" Clint continued, once again speaking right over her. His words came out in a rush between his gasps for breath. He pushed at her arm again, desperate to get her away from him. "He'll be… he'll be back… Nat, he wants m-me dead… n-not you…"

"Clint… I'm not going anywhere," Natasha murmured, and the archer gave up on trying to get out of her hold as he weakly collapsed against her. "No one's going to hurt either one of us." At least, she didn't think so. She hadn't seen any sign of any hostiles, and neither Sam or Vision had seen any indication of anyone else when they'd been in the warehouse.

He briefly shook his head. "Can't… can't you hear m-me… Ta-Tasha?" he asked quietly, his voice hardly more than a whisper now as he stared blankly ahead of him. There was a slight rattle to his breath now, and speaking sounded like it was more difficult for him. His lips were starting to take on a blue-ish tinge. "You… you ha-have to… to get o-out… to safety… I-I… I can't let him… h-hurt y-you... I'll be a-all right… P-promise…"

"And just like we swore to each other years ago, I'm not leaving you behind." Natasha hoped that if anything would get through to him, the promise they'd made to each other when she'd first joined S.H.I.E.L.D., after everything they'd been through together with Fennhoff, would. But her mind went back to the first thing her best friend had said, and she knew exactly who he believed he was trying to protect her from. Even if he wasn't really there.

 _Barney._

Natasha felt a thin line of tears threatening to form in her eyes, but she forced them back. That's who he was so convinced was there, who he believed would harm her if she didn't leave. The gas must have made him relieve the rough patches of their relationship, all due to the guilt she very well knew he'd always harbored about what had happened to the older man. But just like the archer when his mind was clear, she was also very aware that Barney Barton was dead and had been for quite a few years. She had been on the hospital rooftop the night the older archer had given his life in a hail of gunfire to protect Clint. She had been with her best friend during his memorial, holding his hand all the way through when his guilt had threatened to devour him alive. There was no possible way that the real Barney Barton had been roaming the halls of the warehouse that night.

"Clint… this isn't real," she murmured gently, unable to keep her voice quite as controlled as she wanted to as she reached out and calmly stroked his hair. "None of this is… Barney… it isn't real. Fennhoff's gas is making you see him. Don't let him win. Please, listen to me now. You need to save your strength."

All of the fight seemed to leave Clint then as he relaxed under her touch. For a moment, the assassin believed she'd finally managed to get through to him as his eyes began to droop closed.

But then, Clint's body seized up as a rough scream of pain escaped from him, and he gripped his head as tightly as he could and squeezed his eyes shut. Natasha tightened her hold on him.

"Clint, what's wrong?" she asked anxiously. Her main concern had been the arrow in his chest. She'd nearly forgotten about the blood that had been leaking from his ears or any potential physical side effects of the gas itself.

"It…" The archer tried speaking before another weak pained sound escaped from him. He then looked up at the former KGB agent, and she could see the look of wide-eyed horror pass over his face. "I… N-Nat, I… I can't… hear you… Just…" His sentence ended in another soft cry of pain.

Natasha's brow furrowed with worry. "You can't… Have you been unable to hear me this whole time? Clint!"

The only answer she received was a whimper followed by a frustrated sound.

Letting out a slightly shaking breath, Natasha carefully pulled him closer to her. Clint reached out for her, grabbing her hand weakly. Like a lifeline. She held his tightly as she ran her free hand through his hair. She watched with fear as he left out a shuddering, rattling breath while his eyes rolled back into his head, unable to do anything as he fell back into the depths of his darkest memories, too far out of reach of her.

"… Barney… I… I'm sorry… B-Barney…"

Feeling tears threatening to return, Natasha held his hand securely between them as she tightened her hold on his trembling body in effort to provide warmth, to keep him as still as possible, as he slipped further into shock. "I'm right here," she attempted to soothe him, even though now she wasn't sure if he could hear her or not. She hoped her presence would be enough. "Don't leave me, Barton… Please… Remember our promise."

It was then she heard hurried footsteps coming from the floor beneath them. She tensed, every sense on high alert as she made a mental note of where all her weapons were and which would be the easiest to grab in her position.

Her pistol was…

"Nat!"

The assassin let out a sigh of relief at the familiar sound of her name, closing her eyes as she briefly rested her forehead against the top of Clint's head before raising it again. "Steve!" she called back. "We're upstairs! Hurry!"

A moment passed before she heard his quick, heavy footsteps on the staircase nearby. The Super Soldier appeared a moment later, and he instantly paused when he took in the amount of blood on the floor around them as well as the archer's condition.

"Oh, my God…"

"We have to hurry," Natasha told him urgently, her voice cracking ever so slightly. "He's in shock. But you have to be careful lifting him… Besides the arrow in his leg, there's this… this other one… If it gets moved too much, it could puncture a lung, or…"

Steve hurried over, dropping to a knee and picking up the assassin's flashlight to get a closer look at Clint. His face, or at least what she could see of it with the mask, was grave as he studied the archer's ashen face and trembling frame along with the amount of blood coming from the two arrow wounds. "What about this?" he wondered, pointing to the thin trail of crimson that leaked from his ear.

"I… I don't know…" Natasha cleared her throat. "Ruptured eardrum, maybe… His other ear's the same. He said he couldn't hear me…"

The Captain nodded as he lowered the flashlight. "All right. I'll take him from here."

All the former KGB agent could do was watch without a word as Steve reached out, carefully taking Clint from her arms and slowly lifting him into his, ensuring that one arm was secure behind his back and the other beneath his knees so that neither arrow wound would be jostled too much as he rose to his feet. The archer's head lolled limply against the other man's broad shoulder, not making a sound as his body continued to shake. The Super Soldier glanced back at where Natasha was still kneeling on the ground in the puddle of crimson, seemingly in shock herself.

"We need to get him to the jet," he gently reminded her. "Vision and Sam already have Wanda and Lang settled in there."

The assassin simply nodded, her voice seemingly lost to her as she watched Steve carefully take Clint away from her as they disappeared down the stairs. She easily trusted him with her best friend's life.

It took her a moment longer to move, having to remind her uncooperative limbs how to do it, but she finally managed to push herself to her feet and looked around at the dark, silent hall. She picked up her flashlight, seeing that her hands were nearly stained completely red with Clint's blood before she wiped the moisture from her eyes with her sleeve. She'd blame it on the layers of dust in the warehouse to anyone else besides the Captain who happened to see.

At the sound of Steve's voice calling her name from below, Natasha felt herself spurred forward as she followed him, leaving this place of tortured memories behind her.

* * *

 _Tony hummed quietly to himself as he picked the light green colored pencil from the box and started filling in the scales of the fish in the coloring book he had, sticking his tongue between his teeth in concentration and swinging his short legs while he worked. His godmother had left the coloring book for him while his father was in a meeting with other important S.H.I.E.L.D. officials, though he felt like it was taking a little longer than expected. He knew Howard had many important things to do since he was a big part of what kept the organization running, but he wished that he wouldn't have to be here so much. He wished that he could see him just a little more. He'd been sitting alone in his office since he'd eaten lunch and had hardly seen him all day._

 _A light, gentle hand on his back caused him to gasp, startled. But the touch was familiar and welcoming, and he leaned back into its warmth._

 _"How's my little man doing?" the kind English accent he'd been expecting asked._

 _Tony smiled as he looked up at the beaming face of his godmother. His gaze passed over her ruby red lipstick, shining eyes, and slightly waved curtain of dark hair. It was a face he loved. "Okay," he answered, swinging his legs a couple more times. "Thanks, Aunt Peggy. I'm just a little hungry."_

 _Peggy Carter smiled back. "Well, it just so happens you're in luck," she told him. "A field agent is always prepared."_

 _The little boy watched as she produced a juice box, string cheese, and fresh apple slices from behind her back. His grin broadened as he reached out for the snack. "Thank you!"_

 _Chuckling, Peggy ruffled his hair before she leaned forward to get a better look at the coloring book. "That looks like a very interesting fish," she said._

 _Tony followed her gaze as he sipped from his juice box. "I don't know what color to make the rest of the scales," he muttered. "Or the fins."_

 _"Hmm." Peggy's brow furrowed, a sign that she was deep in thought. "How about…" She reached for the box of colored pencils, pulling out a dark purple one. "This one?"_

 _"Purple?" Tony scrunched his nose before shoving an apple slice in his mouth. "Why?"_

 _"Why? Because it goes very well with green." Peggy laughed when she saw him arch a critical eyebrow. She couldn't help but think that he looked so much like Howard when he did that. "Don't believe me? Watch."_

 _Tony reached a small hand out to stop her, but she was quicker as she swiftly filled in a scale next to one of his green ones. She then pulled back with a triumphant smile. "See?"_

 _The little boy leaned a bit closer to the coloring book, scrutinizing her neat work. He then nodded, taking the purple pencil from her and coloring more of the left over scales. "What about the fins?" he wondered._

 _"Hmm, well, let's see…"_

 _But before Peggy could choose a color, there was a knock on the open office door. Tony looked up to see a couple officers he didn't recognize. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Agent Carter, but there's a matter requiring your immediate attention."_

 _"Thank you, I'll be right there," Peggy said. She watched the two men leave before turning back to her godson, seeing that he was looking back up at her with a long face. She sighed. "I'm sorry, little man," she murmured, setting a manicured hand on his shoulder before leaving a light kiss on top of his head. "I'll be back as soon as I can, all right? Maybe I'll urge your father to cut his meeting short, it ran a little over."_

 _Tony just nodded, leaning into her. "It's okay. I understand. I know it's urgent and you can fix whatever it is."_

 _Peggy laughed. "You're a little charmer, just like your father." She set a hand on his cheek. "One of us will be here in a little bit. Okay?"_

 _"Okay." Tony watched after her as she left the office, sighing before popping another apple slice in his mouth and returning to filling in the rest of the scales with the purple pencil. He was just starting to work on the string cheese and trying to decide what color he should use for the fins when a lightly accented, cheerful voice came from behind him._

 _"How about a nice red or black?"_

 _The little boy quickly looked up, seeing that the older man's face was hidden in shadow. But he could feel his kind smile and twinkling eyes, and he grinned up at his friend. He reached out for the pencils he'd suggested, and the man chuckled as he set a wrinkled, secure hand on his shoulder._

 _"That a boy."_

* * *

Fennhoff stood against the wall of the small room, absently watching as people under his employ moved out all the props that had recreated the Stark family living room, including the large chessboard his captive had thrown all over the place. That was something he was going to miss using– it was a good tool to show Tony what he'd lost, and what could still be lost– but it just wouldn't fit well in the next phase of the plan. He could possibly use it later, but it was time for a scene change.

His gaze then moved to the man in question, seeing that Tony was still lying unmoving on the floor where he'd passed out. The tears had dried on his cheeks, but distress crossed his wan features as a tremor moved through his body. His lips moved frantically as he mumbled something in his sleep, his brow furrowed the words hardly more than a breath.

The doctor then watched as Arsen and Bao entered the room again, back to being in full costume. The latter stopped by the thermostat near the door, turning it way down, before they both joined him. "Where is your third partner?" he wondered.

Arsen chuckled, brushing some of his dark hair out of his eyes. "He'll join us in a bit," he told him. "He's having a little trouble with the prosthetic and white wig."

"It went all right by the harbor, and I am certain it will again," Fennhoff muttered. He then reached out a wrinkled hand and straightened Arsen's black tactical vest and wiped a smudge from his metal arm before ensuring that Bao's blue Captain America helmet was on securely. He then glanced behind them to see that another of his men was bringing in the old computer monitor– equipped with some very specific security footage that a grieving Helmut Zemo had been able to retrieve and that his men had been able to procure a copy of– that would prove very useful in the next stage of operations.

The old man glanced down at Tony once again as he shifted a bit on the floor but didn't wake. He inclined his head a little, able to make out what he was saying this time.

"… D…. Da-Dad…"

A grin spread across Fennhoff's face. "That a boy," he said, mainly to himself. "Don't fret, Mr. Stark. I believe you may be seeing him again a bit sooner than you may think."

He then turned to Arsen and Bao. "Get in position, we are nearly ready."

They both nodded. "Yes, Doctor."

Fennhoff then made his way toward the door, leaning on his cane with each step, just as a couple more of his men came in carrying a couple of large, heavy bags. He sighed under his breath, knowing it was going to be a pain to clean up, but also knowing that it would be worth it. His eyes moved up to the vents high on the walls above him as he reached the door, and his grin broadened.

"Let us begin."

* * *

Rhodey shook hands with the two police captains as they rose from their seats. "Thank you again for voicing your concerns with us, Colonel," the ginger man said. "I appreciate that you're keeping us up to date on what's going on with this… bizarre Tony Stark case. Not just with him being alive, but especially since you think a couple officers on our force are somehow involved…"

"At the very least, they're complacent," Rhodey replied. "Which still isn't a very good look."

"Not at all, we'll definitely be keeping an extra eye on everyone's movements," the blond captain assured him. "Especially the ones you have particular concerns about."

"I appreciate that. I just want to bring Tony home." The colonel absently rubbed at his chin in thought, the attack on him down at the harbor not far from his mind. "I appreciate y'alls help. The more eyes we can have on this, the better. We need as many people to bring this man in as possible. He's incredibly dangerous, from what I've been told. Especially if he's infiltrated other institutions. It's apparently something he's skilled at."

"Will do, Colonel. We'll alert you of anything we find here."

Before Rhodey could say anything more, both captains were alerted to an emergency call. Straining his ears a bit, he could just make out that it seemed to be some kind of vehicle explosion incident.

"Sorry to have to cut this short, but we have to take this," the red-haired man muttered, shaking Rhodey's hand one more time. "Pleasure as always, Colonel. We'll keep in touch."

"No problem, I can show myself out." Rhodey smiled as he shook the second captain's hand again, too. "It's always a pleasure, gentlemen." He watched as they both took off to take care of the call before grabbing his lightweight coat and draping it over his arm as he made his way out of the office. As soon as he stepped out into the hall, he stopped abruptly as he bumped into another officer.

"Sorry about that." But then, he inclined his head slightly when he took a closer look at the younger man. He looked familiar. "You're the kid from down at the harbor. Peterson, right?"

Peterson straightened up when he realized just who it was he'd bumped into. "Yes, Colonel Rhodes, sir," he told him.

Rhodey chuckled. "Please, it's just Rhodey," he muttered. "How is everything going down at the harbor?"

The young officer's gaze faltered. "A little slower since Mr. Stark's body was discovered," he answered. "Clean up efforts are still going, there have been some disturbance of the peace issues down there… Although…"

The colonel arched an eyebrow. "Yes?" he prompted.

Peterson met his eyes. "I have my suspicions about a couple people in the force," he muttered, his tone low as though he weren't supposed to speak about it aloud. "Possibly a reporter or two. I've got no hard evidence of it, but…"

"You've seen some suspicious things down there?" Rhodey wondered. When the young man nodded, he passed a hand over his face. He found it interesting that somebody, especially this rookie kid, shared in his view. Though he hadn't expected Fennhoff to have a hand on the media, he shouldn't have been surprised since that was a good way to drive the narrative of Spider-Man being guilty. If it were true. "Have you told anyone?"

"No, sir."

So he was afraid to speak out. Probably didn't know who he could trust. Also not surprising. Though it sounded like it would be good information to have. Rhodey took a step closer to the kid. "How about this?" he wondered, giving him a conspiratorial smirk. He had a trick up his sleeve. "How about you share your concerns with me since I have some similar ones. I've seen some shit down there, too. It can be… I don't know… we'll say Avengers stuff. How about it?" He hadn't forgotten how excited the younger man had been to meet War Machine.

Peterson's face brightened up despite himself. But before either of them could say anything more, Rhodey sighed when he felt his phone vibrate with a call. He pulled it out of his coat pocket, expecting to just disregard it, but his eyes narrowed when he saw it was Steve's untraceable phone.

Why would he possibly be calling?

… Unless it had something to do with Fennhoff…

"Sorry, son, but I gotta take this," the colonel said. "Give me a minute, and then we can talk?"

Peterson nodded. "Yeah, sure thing, Colonel."

"Thanks." Rhodey took a few steps down the hall so that he could have a private conversation before answering the call and bringing the phone to his ear. "What's going on?"

A moment passed as he listened to the Captain on the other end before his eyes widened in horror.

"Oh, God…"

* * *

Happy took a slow sip of his Mountain Dew, watching with bemusement as Peter started on a second crunchy taco across the table from him. They'd gone inside the Taco Bell after the incident in the parking lot since they'd promised the cops that had arrived to the scene that they wouldn't go far so they could still answer any questions they'd had about why his car had suddenly combusted, and the interior of the restaurant was abuzz with excitement over what had happened.

"Seriously, kid. How much can you _eat_?"

Peter took another bite of the taco, shrugging as he chewed and swallowed it. "Honestly, I didn't eat much at the diner," he told him. "But even if I had, I have a really fast metabolism after the whole, y'know, spider thing."

"Of course you do." The head of security reached out and took one of the cinnamon twists off his tray and stuffed it in his own mouth. "You don't need that."

Then, his cell phone rang, and Happy reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled it out. Glancing at the screen and seeing it was Rhodey, he quickly swallowed and answered. "Hello?"

 _"Where's Peter?"_ the colonel asked.

Happy glanced at the teen, hearing the urgency in the other man's voice. "Sitting across the table from me, stuffing his face with Taco Bell," he answered. "Why? What'd he do now?" Peter scrunched up his face and pointed at himself, causing the man to roll his eyes.

Rhodey sighed. _"Nothing, jackass. Just needed to make sure he was safe."_

The head of security frowned. "Yeah, we're find now," he told him.

 _"Now?"_

Happy sighed. "See, I knew you were gonna freak. But really, it's nothing," he muttered, glancing around at the full restaurant lobby. "I'll explain everything more later, but _something_ in the trunk of my car exploded, and–!"

 _"Exploded?"_ the colonel repeated. _"That was_ you guys _?"_

"You heard about that?"

 _"I was at the police station when the call came in,"_ Rhodey told him. _"Of course it was you guys… Why am I not surprised?"_

Happy rolled his eyes.

 _"So what exploded?"_ Rhodey pressed.

That's what we'll talk about later," Happy replied. "Now's not a good time. But what's going on? Why'd you need to know the kid was safe?"

 _"You need to get Peter to the Tower now,"_ Rhodey explained.

"How? My car exploded," the head of security grumbled.

 _"Right, I'll pick you up. I'm on my way there now. Steve and the rest of his crew are, too. I already placed a call to Helen Cho at the Compound…"_

"Cho?" Happy's brow furrowed at the doctor's name. "Is something wrong?"

Peter slowly stopped chewing another bite of his taco, hanging on every word since he could faintly make out the colonel's voice on the other end of the phone.

A long silence came from the other man. Happy sighed. "Rhodey! What's wrong?"

Another moment passed before Rhodey's response came, and Happy and the web-slinger exchanged wide-eyed looks.

 _"Clint's down."_

 **Author's Note** : Fennhoff's moving into another phase with Tony, Clint's not doing well, everyone else has been rescued, and everyone's gonna regroup to figure out where to go next. There were some little clues in here, which will continue as we move ahead now. We're starting to gear up for the last arc of this story, so it's only get crazier from here. All right, guys! With that said, your reviews are always much appreciated! Until next time, guys!


	26. Chapter 26- Change of Plans

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit.

 **Summary** : Homecoming AU. "I swear…" he gasped out between his sobs. "I… I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.

 **Author's Note** : Hey, guys! I'm so, so sorry about the wait. Real life and some personal things really got in the way for a while there. And then I had to rewrite a couple sections of this chapter more than once to get it to cooperate. But thank you all for your patience, and welcome aboard to anyone new! I'm glad that you guys are liking this story so much! It's only gonna get crazier from here on out since we're in the final arc of things now. So there will be more clues about Fennhoff's connection to Tony and others, as well as tie-ins, as we continue to get to the answer of what's going on. I really hope that the next chapters don't take as long, lol. But thank you all for hanging in there with me! I won't keep you any longer!

Quick **note** , there's also a bit of an AU for **First Avenger** and **Winter Soldier** in this chapter.

In response to **Cellorules** : Thank you so much! I'm happy that you're enjoying it so much! Thank you for your review!

In response to **Vidari** : Thank you so much for binging all this, I truly appreciate that! And I'm so happy to hear that you love this so much (that it's one of your favorite MCU fics is amazing, thank you so much!)! Characterization is something I really try to focus on, so thank you for the compliment. On the dialogue as well! I always try to make sure there's a purpose for everything. I like stories with characters in captivity, too, so I'm glad that you're loving it! Thank you so much! And thank you for your review! I apologize for the wait, but I hope you enjoy this chapter, too!

 _Chapter 26– Change of Plans_

 _"I… I can't go home…. I can't face her… Not yet…"_

 _"You know she won't see this as your fault, Clint. Not after everything…"_

 _"I… I still can't… Not after what I've done this time…. All the people I've killed…"_

 _"That wasn't you who did those things, Clint. Not really. And Laura will know that. I promise."_

 _"I still did them, Nat. Without question. Just like… like I used to… What… what if…?"_

 _"No. Don't go there. Don't ever go there, Clint. You can't do that to yourself. Those things you did, that person you were… that's not you anymore. And don't let some things we don't understand… gods, magic, aliens… don't let those things make you believe that you are."_

 _Silence._

 _"Listen to me, Barton. Is that person you used to be, the one who did all those terrible things, still there? Probably. I know the person I used to be is still there. Even after all the good we've done. Those people are still a part of us, deep down. And they always will be. But they don't have to have control of our lives anymore, Clint. We can quiet those voices, and I think we've both done a pretty damn good job of it. Don't let some… magic spell and mind control make you believe any differently. You are not that person anymore. And you never will be again."_

 _"I… I don't know…"_

 _"Please, Clint. Just listen to me on this. Okay?"_

 _Silence._

 _"Clint?"_

 _"… I'll try, Tasha…"_

After the alien attack on New York had been the most vulnerable Natasha had ever seen her partner. At least since the death of his brother. But Loki's brainwashing had brought too many painful memories back to the surface for Clint, sending him right back to when killing and carnage had been both second nature and a constant companion for him. For the first time since she could remember, he hadn't been able to look at himself in the mirror due to what he'd done under the god of mischief's control. He hadn't been able to face Laura since he'd been afraid to see how she'd respond to the actions beyond his control. He hadn't been able to go home and hold his children with the blood that stained his hands.

So they'd stayed for about a week in one of their safe houses outside the city limits, one of many they had besides Clint's own home throughout the country and in various others that they would use on missions. It was one of the smaller ones, only one bedroom and bathroom, but he'd given her the bed while he'd just taken the floor. Neither one had gotten much sleep over that time, Clint because he was plagued with nightmares from when he'd been under Loki's spell while she'd contemplated just what exactly it would mean for them to be Avengers going forward. They'd always been spies, not soldiers. And she'd realized that if there were going to be more situations like the battle of New York, they were going to have to become the soldiers they'd always dreaded to be. So they'd both simply ended up on the floor those nights, lying facing away from each other with their backs barely touching and wondering what would be the next step for them now until the archer had been able to get his head back on straight and returned home to his family.

The assassin's gaze faltered from where she stood beside the table that Clint was lying on as Steve steered the quinjet away from the warehouse and back in the direction of the Tower. He was so still she could hardly even tell that he was breathing. His face, void of all emotion, was so white he already looked like death. She reached a slightly shaking hand out, brushing her fingers across the cold, clammy skin of his arm, blinking her tears away. He had to live. It scared her to think of her life without him in it since he'd been such an intricate part of it, since he'd been the reason she was alive now. They were tied together, two halves of the same messed up whole. She didn't know what would happen to her if he was no longer there. She didn't want to imagine a world without Clint Barton in it while she remained behind.

Across from her, Sam's lips were set in a thin, stern line, his eyes narrowed in focus, while he worked. Natasha had never been as grateful that her friend was a certified pararescue than at that moment. She watched as he carefully, with deft, practiced fingers, pushed the arrow through Clint's thigh without causing any more serious damage. The archer didn't even stir. He then quickly wrapped a towel securely around the entry wound in effort to staunch the blood flow and to help combat any symptoms of shock that could settle in. Sam then rummaged for some bandages and stitches in the pack he'd found on the aircraft, along with anything to help with fighting any possible infection, before he glanced up at Natasha. His gaze faltered when he saw how stiffly she was standing, her arms now crossed protectively in front of her, as she watched over Clint, still and silent with seemingly no feeling. At least none that he could gauge by her blank expression. But he could see it in the uncertainty flickering in her eyes, the way her brow was furrowed ever so slightly, and the way she was lightly chewing on her bottom lip.

"I don't know how comfortable I am trying to remove this other one in his chest," Sam said with a quiet clear of his throat. Words of sympathy wouldn't get him anywhere with the former KGB agent. He knew she wanted facts, something that she could grasp onto. Facts were something she was familiar with, something that she could use. Pity was not. "I mean, I could do it in other circumstances if I were more in control of my environment." He offered a brief chuckle. "It's not that I don't trust Steve's piloting skills, I do, but turbulence is something that can't be accounted for. And with the arrow where it is, so close to so many vital things… it's not a chance I'm the most willing to take if something like that were to happen at the wrong moment. But if I can ensure I can get him still enough…"

Natasha looked back up at him. "Will he be okay with it in until we got to the Tower?" she asked. "Doctor Cho will be waiting for us, but…"

Sam sighed again, leaning a bit closer to Clint to get a better look at the wound. "Right now, it seems so," he answered. "The arrow itself is preventing much of the blood flow, so for the time being, he's not at risk of losing _too_ much. At least, not to a critical point. We're not going too far. But we do have this second wound in his leg, which I'm gonna patch up now. You also said something about his ears?"

The assassin nodded. "I'm thinking possibly ruptured eardrums," she confirmed, watching as the other man carefully lifted the archer's head to get a better look. "He said that he couldn't hear me, so…"

"Well, it seems like they've stopped bleeding…" he muttered, mainly to himself. "At least for the most part. Though I'm glad Steve's keeping to a relatively low altitude. But you may be right. I don't have the supplies here to look further into that, but Cho will. So his leg and keeping an eye on his chest will be my primary concerns. Is that okay?"

She seemed surprised that her friend had even asked for her permission, but Natasha nodded. "Yeah, that's fine," she told him. "Thanks for everything, Sam."

"Sure thing. What are friends for?" Sam then reached over Clint, lightly setting his hand on her arm. He waited until she met his gaze before offering her a small, hopefully reassuring and confident smile. "I'm not gonna let him die, Nat. Not on my watch."

Natasha lowered her gaze, glancing down at his hand to see that it was also stained with her best friend's blood, just like hers was, before she nodded. "Thanks, Sam." She then reached out and took Clint's hand in hers while the other man checked on the now open wound on the archer's leg. She let out a quiet, slightly shaking breath, a thin line of tears forming in her eyes again.

"Hang in there, Clint…"

Toward the back of the jet, Vision and Wanda were sitting close together so that they were lightly touching, his arm draped around her securely. She looked down at where her hands were still shaking in her lap, gasping quietly when a few crimson sparks flickered around her fingers before she curled them into fists. The android's light eyes narrowed in concern.

"Are you all right, Wanda?" he asked quietly.

She slowly looked back at him, the concern on his face piercing her heart. She wasn't sure how to answer that normally simple question since really, it wasn't so simple. Physically, she seemed… all right. She'd been better, surely, but she wasn't hurt, not really. A little weak, a little drained, a little shaky, all from the gas, but she would be all right. Vision's presence alone gave her more strength.

But mentally…

Wanda took a deep, shuddering breath, curling her hands into even tighter fists when she felt more crimson light threatening to form. What she'd seen… what she'd heard… what she'd felt… none of it had been something she hadn't felt about herself. The world didn't welcome her, didn't embrace her. And it never would, not with who she was, what she was. Not with what she'd been made to be. Because she wasn't herself anymore, at least not the person she used to be. That girl was gone. How could she blame others for being afraid of her when she was still afraid of herself?

The only person who truly saw her, who wasn't afraid of her no matter what, was Vision. He accepted her fully despite what the likes of Strucker her turned her into. There was a bond of understanding… of what could possibly be called love… between them that she hadn't shared with anyone before. Not since Pietro. It was something she couldn't even bear to think of losing.

But she almost had. Because she had almost killed him. It didn't matter that it had been because of the hallucinogenic. She had still almost killed the only true connection she had in the world. She had nearly killed two other men who she considered trusted friends, which were few and far between. All because she hadn't been in control of herself, of her powers, when she'd fought so hard for that control.

… Or because she had finally decided to fully embrace them…

A tremor ran through her. No, she couldn't think like that. That wasn't who she was… not anymore…

"Wanda?" the android pressed, quietly and patiently.

"Sorry, Vis." Wanda looked back at him, deciding on what she could say since this was more of a conversation for when they were alone and could speak more intimately about her fears. "I'm just… thinking, that's all."

Vision frowned, and she had no doubt that he could see right through her. "About what?" he wondered softly. "What troubles you?"

Wanda blinked some tears that had risen to her eyes away as she lowered her gaze. She slowly uncurled her fists, seeing that a faint hint of red light remained around her fingers. Despite how she had tried to keep it at bay. She'd had a taste of what her full power could do; now, it didn't want to seem to be kept down.

"I… I saw something else back in the warehouse," she finally, hesitantly admitted just as quietly, her breath hitching. It was something she hadn't felt as though she could've told Vision right after he'd found her, as it was something she hadn't wanted to think about at the time. It was something she didn't like to think about since it was something she really didn't feel anymore. But besides Pietro, she'd seen a third figure along with Strucker and Fennhoff who had had a hand in creating what she now was, even though she'd absolved him of guilt, of any blame, a long time ago.

"What else did you see?"

Wanda swallowed hard, almost afraid to answer. She trusted Vision implicitly, she knew that she could tell him anything. But this was different. She didn't know how he would take _this_. He'd told her how he could never hate her, but she wasn't so sure when it came to this. This scared her, even as he tightened his arm around her ever so slightly in a comforting, reassuring way.

But before she could say anything, another gentle hand landed on her knee. She quickly looked up to see that Scott was giving her a small smile from where he'd chosen to crash on the floor not too far away from them. She shakily attempted to return the look, appreciating both the distraction and the comfort he was giving her.

"That, uh, that gas packed quiet a punch," the ex-con muttered, attempting to keep his tone light. But his face was pale, there were dark shadows under his haunted eyes, and the cheerful look he was attempting to give her didn't reach them. It was almost as though he was just a shell of himself without that bright and chipper disposition she'd come to associate with him. "Are you okay, kiddo?"

Wanda lightly set her hand on top of his in concern. "I will be," she told him. "How about you?"

Scott shrugged slightly with a brief chuckle. "Well, you know…" He let out a shaking breath as he shook his head. "It was rough, you know? Your mind's your worst enemy, and when that's what you're fighting…"

"Yes." Wanda nodded in understanding as she squeezed his hand. That had always been Johann Fennhoff's greatest specialty– making his victims fight their own mind until they no longer knew what was real and what wasn't and were desperate for any way out that they could get. Fortunately, she, Scott, and Clint hadn't been under his influence long enough to reach that point, but she had seen on a couple of occasions what happened to someone who had been in the mad doctor's so-called care for that long. She shuddered. It had never been a pretty sight.

But what Fennhoff had done was caused her to fight herself, against her own dark, worst impulses. What scared her was that they had nearly won, and still possibly could. It was something she knew she could never allow to happen.

One drawback to her power was that her mind was never quite just her own, was never completely quiet. Because even if she wasn't trying to, Wanda could hear glimpses into the unaware minds of those around her. It sometimes worked in her favor, and if it was intentional at times, she was usually just curious. The secrets that lived in other people's heads belonged to her as well, though she always kept them to herself. It was a burden she shared with friends and strangers alike. And it was only with Vision that the voices ever stopped, that her mind could truly be hers and be quietly even if just for a little while. Those were her favorite moments. When the world was still.

Even now, subconscious voices filled her head. Sam's silent encouragement to Clint to keep fighting and giving himself a pep talk as he worked to save his life. The crushing fear for Clint that Natasha refused to show as she begged whoever was listening to spare her best friend. Steve's dread about Fennhoff– about confronting the doctor again, about being willing to face this monster from his past if it meant saving Tony from a fate he was all too familiar with– along with rage at the older man for all he'd done, and blame at himself for how he should have done more last time. Flickers of guilt, of sorrow, from Clint– meaning he was still clinging to life, even if just barely – involving someone he'd loved named Barney…

Though she didn't need physical contact with another person for her ability to work, Wanda was well aware that it often went a long way in helping her to focus on a specific person. While she could hear everyone, Scotts' voice was loudest since their hands were still touching. In contrast to the attempted kind smile on his face, his mind was _screaming_. She could nearly feel his fear, his desperation to find someone like they were her own…

"It made you see your daughter, didn't it?" she whispered.

Scott looked back at her with surprise for a moment before he sighed and lowered his gaze. He carefully removed his hand from hers. He opened his mouth to say something, seemed to think better of it, and chuckled instead. "Uh, yeah… yeah, it did…"

Wanda's gaze faltered. "I'm sorry, Scott…. I didn't mean to pry…" she murmured.

"N-no, it…" Scott paused, passing a hand over his face before he briefly shook his head. "Maybe… maybe it'll help…"

"There is no need, Mr. Lang," Vision told him gently.

"I appreciate that, but… I think I want to?" The ex-con cleared his throat. He turned back to Wanda. "One of the main features of this suit is something called a regulator. It's what makes me shrink or grow, basically. But if you go too small, you… well, you risk being lost out in what's called the Quantum Realm. And normally… normally you don't come back from that. Hank, the guy who was Ant-Man before me, lost his wife that way."

Wanda's brow furrowed. "So… did you see Cassie…?"

"Yeah." Scott's voice broke, a thin line of tears in his eyes. "She was _so_ scared… and I couldn't find her…" He stopped, taking a deep breath as he blinked away the moisture obscuring his vision. "Um… I know it wasn't real, I do…. I know she's okay, she's safe…. But I just… I wish that I could just see her, y'know? Hold her, and make sure of that myself…"

"Maybe… maybe there's a way you can…" Wanda said.

But the ex-con gave her a sad smile in return. "I'm not sure how."

Wanda simply nodded. Not knowing quite what to say in response since she wasn't sure how he could go see his daughter either, she rested her head on Vision's shoulder and closed her eyes, allowing the warmth and safety of his presence to surround her.

Steve's jaw was set tight as he kept his gaze straight ahead, though he kept an ear on his team behind him. They'd suffered a heavy blow, that went without saying. Not only did their lead turn up nothing on Tony, the ambush had nearly taken three of them out. Had nearly claimed one of their own. Despair hung heavily in the quinjet. Even though Wanda and Scott hadn't been harmed physically, the damage mentally had been extensive. It would take quite some time to recover from that, along with getting their strength back from the effects of the gas itself. He hated to admit it, but it was precious time that couldn't afford to be wasted if they wanted to find Tony in time and bring the man they'd come to know and love back home.

And then Clint…

The Captain briefly closed his eyes. It was clear to him that Fennhoff's main target in the ambush had been the archer, but what he necessarily wasn't sure of was why. He knew about the other man's experiences with the doctor, just as Clint knew about bits and pieces of his, and he remembered that Fennhoff had killed the older Barton in return for Clint stopping him from recruiting Natasha for Hydra. Even though that had been quite some time ago, he wasn't surprised that the old man had held onto the perceived grudge for that long.

What did concern him was how Fennhoff had known that they would be there. And how he'd known that he would be watching.

The doctor seemed to be making an effort to get his attention, to call him out. They certainly had plenty of unfinished business between them that stretched back years, but the way he was trying to get to him was strange. Taking Tony… trying to kill Clint…

 _What was Fennhoff's game?_

But then, Steve's jaw eased a bit as he took a deep breath. He would worry about all of that later. His immediate priority was Clint, and the welcoming lights of the former Avengers Tower had just come into view.

At least one thing was going right for them.

For now.

* * *

Rhodey made a parking spot in front of the Tower and shut off the car. Peter was out of the backseat even before the vehicle had completely stopped. The Colonel and Happy followed, all heading toward the front door.

"Steve's already here," Rhodey muttered as he dug his keys out of the pocket of his jeans. "Sam texted me. Clint was… well, not quite stable, but alive when they got here. Also got an alert from one of Helen's assistants, she should be here, too…. So we'll have to hope for the best."

Happy's brow furrowed with concern as he looked up at the Tower above them. Peter wrapped his arms around himself, fighting off a slight chill. First Tony had been taken and then made to appear as though he'd died. And now Hawkeye had nearly been killed. It all had to be related…

 _Fennhoff_. Could he… this seemingly harmless old man… _really_ be behind all of this? It didn't seem possible.

When they entered the lobby, they found Pepper waiting by the elevators, her face slightly pale and worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. A drowsy Lily was tucked under her arm.

"What's going on?" the CEO asked anxiously as they approached. "Doctor Cho's here, and…"

Rhodey lightly grasped her arm while Happy hit the up arrow for the elevator so they could get to the medical bay, Peter beside him watching the doors nervously. "It's all right, Pep," he answered, trying to keep his own voice calm. "It's Clint…"

The head of security turned to Peter as Pepper and the Colonel continued to discuss in quiet tones. He let out a quiet breath. "You okay there, kid?" he wondered. "You look like you're about to pass out."

Peter looked back at him. No, he really wasn't okay. An android made to look like his uncle's murderer had been stalking and attacked him. Said android had nearly blown them up. One of their own had nearly been killed. And whoever was responsible for that still had his mentor. And was possibly his school psychologist.

He thought he'd been ready for being an Avenger along with all that came with it.

But maybe… maybe he was wrong…

"Y-yeah," the teen finally stuttered with a jerky nod. "I… I'm fine. Of course. I'm fine…. Why wouldn't I be?"

Happy arched an eyebrow. Peter grinned back innocently. But before either of them could say anything more, there was a quiet _ding_ as the elevator doors slid open. The head of security waited for Pepper, Peter, and Rhodey to step inside before he followed suit, and they were all silent as the doors closed behind them. The web-slinger stood next to the CEO, her hand on his shoulder protectively, which he was glad for. Lily nudged his arm with her nose, and a small smile appeared on his face as he scratched behind her ear.

When they reached their floor, they found the medical bay to be a flurry of activity. Vision, Wanda, and Scott were sitting in chairs against the wall in the waiting area, all appearing pale, shaken, and overall the worse for wear. Wanda in particular was silently crying as she stared at the observation window across the room from her with fear. The android's hand was wrapped around hers securely, his thumb brushing lightly across her smooth knuckles. Beside them, Scott was staring blankly at the floor, his fingers drumming an uneven, frantic rhythm against the chair's arm.

In front of the observation window, Steve studied what was happening inside the second room intently, his face betraying nothing, with his arms crossed against his broad chest. Beside him, Natasha was pale and her eyes were red-rimmed from tears. Her foot was tapping an absent, agitated rhythm on the floor as her eyes faltered while she watched what was happening.

Peter was surprised, though he knew he shouldn't have been, to see that Nick Fury was with them.

Rhodey walked over to join Steve and Natasah, setting his hands on her tense shoulders and speaking quietly to her as she leaned closer to him. Happy made his way over to where Vision, Wanda, and Scott were sitting to check on them and see if he could get them anything. Pepper slowly walked to the observation window, her gaze faltering as she held Lily close to her chest.

A moment passed before the teen walked forward to join them, his eyes widening in horror at what he saw. Sam and a dark-haired woman who must have been Dr. Cho were standing over a bed with Clint lying on it. He already looked like death. His face was ashen, and he was unresponsive to the two applying pressure to his chest, where he could see there was a lot of blood. He was being given oxygen, and the only indicator that he was still alive was the machine he was hooked up to reading his vitals. With his enhanced hearing, he could tell that they weren't good.

 _Too much too much too much too much too…_

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Fury lean toward Steve and whisper something to him. The latter nodded, watching the archer for a moment longer before he turned away from the window and made his way over to Peter. He set a light hand on the web-slinger's shoulder, causing him to jump slightly.

"Hey, Peter. May I have a word?"

The words were gentle, but he could hear there was a great deal of severity underneath that, also. Peter glanced quickly up at him before turning back to where Clint was fighting for his life. He vaguely remembered Happy saying that Steve had wanted to talk with him. "Uh… y-yeah, sounds great," he agreed quietly. Uncertainly.

The Captain nodded, turning a little to look at Fury. "Keep me updated on any changes," he told him.

The director met his gaze, clear concern and weariness in his eye. "Will do, Cap," he assured him.

Peter took a deep breath as he followed the Super Soldier back to the elevator, stepping inside after him and watched as he hit the button for the penthouse a few floors above them. He shifted nervously, a stark contrast to his companion's calm, quiet demeanor. The silence was unbearable. He cleared his throat.

"Is… is Mr. Barton going to be okay?"

Steve glanced over and met his gaze. His bearded features betrayed nothing, but there was a heavy look in his eyes that made the teen's heart sink. "Barton's a fighter," he answered quietly. "And Helen's one of the best in her profession, as is Sam. He's in the best place possible to have the best chance to pull through."

It wasn't the most promising answer, Peter realized. His brow furrowed. "What happened, Captain A… Steve?"

The Captain frowned, as though he were trying to decide how to best answer that question. The web-slinger held his breath. But the elevator quietly dinged as it came to a stop before either could say anything, and he smiled faintly as he gestured ahead of him when the doors slid open to reveal the dimly lit penthouse. Peter swallowed nervously as he stepped out first, Steve following after him.

"Have a seat anywhere you'd like, Peter."

The teen's gaze faltered as he slowly crossed the large room, his senses on high alert and acutely aware of the feeling of being watched. He wandered over to one of the couches closer to the windows so that he could look out at the clear night and brightly lit, bustling city far below.

Why did he have the distinct feeling that he was in some kind of trouble?

Steve sighed quietly as he sat on another couch adjacent to his, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Peter couldn't help but think that with how the man's eyes seemed dimmer than usual and how his broad shoulders were drooping ever so slightly that he appeared… defeated.

This wasn't going to be good. He could feel it.

"So… what happened?" the web-slinger managed to get out, his voice cracking a little. "I mean… I should know… right? I mean, I… I'm a… a part of this team…" He hated how uncertain he sounded with that claim.

A moment passed before Steve nodded, a quiet chuckle breaking through his lips before he looked back at him. "Yes, you should," he agreed, causing Peter's heart to lift ever so slightly. But then, he cleared his throat as his gaze faltered. "Barton led a team for a typical recon mission to an old Hydra base he'd cleared out himself years ago. And–!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait. Why a Hydra base?" Peter asked, not even wanting to think about how he had just interrupted Captain America. "Is… Did Mr. Stark get taken by Hydra?"

Steve nodded. "Yes," he answered. "Or at least by the small sect of it that managed to survive."

Peter's eyes widened as he took in this information and thought it over. Though he was only left with more questions. This was bigger than he'd initially thought. Way bigger. "Why would they take him?"

At this, the Captain briefly but noticeably hesitated. The teen's heart skipped a beat. "We're not completely sure," he told him carefully. "We've heard nothing in terms of their intent, only what they've done so far with faking Tony's death and placing that blame on you."

"Do… do you know why they would've done that?" Peter's gaze faltered. "Blamed me, I mean…. I don't think I've done anything that would've gotten me on Hydra's radar… I didn't even know they were still a thing, honestly, not much of one…"

Steve took a deep breath. "We don't think it has anything to do with you personally," he explained. "More that you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. A convenient scapegoat and a way to get attention off of themselves. And to possibly have some leverage over Tony. We think it's possible that they'd want him to join them. He has invaluable resources that they could use to grow back to full power."

The teen straightened up, panicked. "He wouldn't do that, though!" he said. "He wouldn't…" His sentence trailed off as a realization settled in. "That's why they blamed me… isn't it? To make him do it."

"It's highly possible," Steve replied gently. There was a flicker of something in his eye he couldn't discern. "Though we have nothing definitive yet."

There were a couple things the Super Soldier was leaving out, Peter could _feel_ it. He just didn't know what they were, or why he was doing so. But he needed the whole story, though he knew he wouldn't get it if he asked. The man was resolute.

"So… what happened to Mr. Hawkeye… Barton? Clint?"

Steve sighed. "Barton led the recon mission to what was supposed to be a cleared base with Wanda and Lang," he explained. "But someone was waiting for them. They unleased a hallucinogenic gas, and–!"

"Wait. Like what Mr. Stark and I were exposed to before he was taken?" Peter wondered.

The Captain possessed a hell of a lot of patience, the teen realized. He didn't even appear fazed that he'd been interrupted twice in the past few minutes. "Yes, I'm certain of it," he said.

"So… that's why everyone's so shaken up down there?"

"Partly."

Peter thought back to before the building had exploded… how long ago had that even happened? It felt like a lifetime ago… He remembered the gas that had been released, how he'd been so certain he'd seen his uncle on that rooftop with them even though it was impossible… how shaken whatever Tony had seen had made him… how he'd been convinced he'd seen the Winter Soldier there as well, even though others had told him it was impossible… that he couldn't, he _wouldn't,_ have had anything to do with Tony's kidnapping…

"May I continue?" Steve wondered, arching a bemused eyebrow.

The web-slinger startled out of his thoughts. "Oh, y-yeah. Of course… go ahead."

The Captain took a deep breath. "From what we could gather, whoever released the gas was the one who attacked Barton," he concluded. "From what Romanoff was able to get, they made it personal. I'm assuming that someone either dressed as someone important from Barton's past, or another android was sent in."

" _Another_ android?" Peter repeated, his eyes narrowing. "Just how many of these things are running around?"

Steve let out a weary sigh. "Confirmed? Three," he told him. "The one you told me about, and the two that attacked Rhodey down at the ferry port the night we believed Tony's body was discovered. Though from what Rhodey told me, the one that attacked you is out of commission now, too."

"Yeah, it somehow self-destructed in the back of Happy's car…" The teen's sentence trailed off. The all-too familiar heat of anger started to rise up in his chest, to build up behind his eyes. "Why wasn't I told about the others? Wouldn't I need to know about those?"

 _I'm on this team…_

"Nothing came of that android attack." Steve studied the teen closely. "So we thought–!"

"Yeah, well, maybe that would have helped explain why the man who killed my uncle, who died the same day, was following me around looking for me a little sooner, okay?" Peter snapped. When the man didn't say anything in response, he pressed his palms against his burning eyes as he leaned back against the cushion.

 _Too much too much too much too…_

"I'm sorry," the web-slinger mumbled.

"No, you have no need to apologize," Steve told him, leaning forward again. "You should have been informed. I suppose with Tony's supposed death, it just slipped our minds." He sighed. "I'm sorry I didn't come for you when you needed me."

Peter lowered his hands, looking back at him with surprise. One of the men he'd looked up to for so long was _apologizing_ to _him_? "N-no, it's fine… it turned out fine…" he protested. Though he hated how his tone wavered ever so slightly. "Plus you had something more important to deal with."

The Super Soldier smiled slightly. A flicker of sympathy flashed across his face. "Was that your android? The man who killed your uncle?" he wondered softly. When his young companion was only able to nod, he sighed. "All right. That reinforces my decision."

The web-slinger froze, every sense on high alert. His skin prickled while the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He hesitated. "What, uh… what decision?"

Steve met his gaze, and Peter could see the inner turmoil behind his eyes. It was something that was going to be difficult for him to say, he could see that. A bad feeling pooled in his stomach.

"Peter, I'm thankful for all the insight you've been able to give us so far with what you remember from the attack," the Captain said. "That and other trails we've followed have given us some pretty solid leads and an idea of what happened to Tony. We're trying to locate him now."

The teen straightened up on the couch again. "You are? What's going on? Where are you…" His question trailed off when the man raised his hand a bit to calm him.

"I also appreciate all of your enthusiasm." Steve's gaze faltered. "But with what we've gathered and pieced together so far, it's left me with little choice." He paused briefly. "I'm going to have to pull you from the search. For your own safety."

A moment of silence passed between them as Peter simply stared back at the Captain in disbelief. _Pull him from the search?_ He couldn't do that… could he? He was a part of this team. He could help. He knew things the rest of the Avengers didn't. He could do more. He just needed the opportunity to prove himself. To show them. Just because he was fifteen didn't mean… He could…

"Pu… pull me from…?" he stuttered. "No-no, I can… please just…"

"There will be other things that you can do to help us, Peter," Steve assured him gently but firmly. It was a tone that signaled finality, that there was no more room for discussion. His mind had been made up already. Though there was also a trace of what appeared to be understanding, of empathy, on his face. It made the teen's stomach churn. "But I can no longer allow you to be out there with us. Not on good conscience."

 _"And if you died, I feel like that's on me. I don't need that on my conscience."_

Tony's words from shortly before things went to hell echoed in his mind. His gaze flitted quickly to the large windows, though there was nothing out of the ordinary. Outside of typical New York City traffic, things were quiet.

But the relief that they weren't under attack was short lived as dread, as anger, replaced it. Peter began to shake, tears rushing to his eyes. First the billionaire had tried to take his suit away, had said that he couldn't have something happening to him on his conscience. Now Steve…

Why had they both treated him like he couldn't be a part of this team? Why had they both treated him like just a kid? It didn't matter that he was younger than they were. He was strong. He could do this. He just had to show them.

He could find Tony.

"Y-you can't do that," the teen protested. "You can't… you can't take me off this now… You can't!"

Steve's gaze faltered as he sighed. "I'm sorry, Peter, I really am," he muttered. "But it's for your own safety. I can't afford to risk that."

"You know what I can do!" A couple tears fell from Peter's eyes as he leaned toward the other man. "I've fought you. You've seen me!"

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of the Captain's lips. "Yes, I have. And I'm impressed," he told him. "However, I wasn't trying to harm you. As you've already seen, these guys won't hesitate." His gaze faltered. "You're also unable to use your suit. They took that choice from you for a reason. Which is why I can't allow you to get any closer to this."

But Peter couldn't accept it. He just _couldn't_. He _had_ to do something. "I… I can go without it… I-I don't need it…" He swallowed hard. "Please… you have to let me help find Mr. Stark. After what happened–!"

"As I said, we could use your help in other ways." Steve briefly dropped his gaze to his folded hands before meeting his again. "I'm sorry, Peter. It's not just for your safety, but also possibly Tony's. Depending on what these Hydra agents want from him, the risk is too high to have you out there with us."

"But…" The web-slinger desperately started scrounging around, searching for his mask. His stomach dropped when he remembered his suit was at home, hidden away in his backpack. "I swear, I-I can help…. Karen… my suit's AI… she records things when I'm wearing my mask, and… I had it on for a short time, I can… show you the little bit she caught up there…"

He could tell by Steve's face that he wasn't going to relent. There had to be _something_ he could do to convince the Captain to let him keep helping with the search. There had to be…

His heart leapt, and he quickly started to dig in his pockets. "I have something…. The android gave it to me…. It belongs to Mr. Stark…"

Steve watched curiously as Peter scrambled for what he was looking for, his gaze wavering. He was so desperate to help find the billionaire, and he wished that he could let him. He knew all too well what it felt like to want to prove himself when no one would take him seriously. He really cared about Tony, that was obvious. But with what Fennhoff could have in mind, he couldn't let Peter get any closer to this. It was critical enough that Tony had spent as much time as he already had in his clutches. He couldn't let the mad doctor get his claws into Peter, too. He wouldn't forgive himself if he did. Not when it seemed like Fennhoff wanted to settle the old score against him, also.

The teen finally pulled something out of his pocket and held it out to the man. It gleamed in the light. "Here!" he said, a little breathless. "The android had it. He mentioned Mr. Stark."

The Super Soldier stood and approached the couch before carefully taking the watch from him. His eyes narrowed as his gaze passed over the crack in the face. "This is Tony's," he agreed quietly. "It was his father's."

"Yes!" Peter got to his feet to face him. "The android also said that Mr. Stark sends his regards."

Steve frowned. Typical Fennhoff mind games. "Did it say anything else about him?"

The web-slinger hesitated, causing the Captain to look up at him. "He… it… said that it could take me to him…"

So, Fennhoff _was_ trying to get to Peter. Playing on the kid's desire to find the billionare would be an effective way to snare him in this growing web. He nodded slightly as he held the watch out to him to take back. "Why don't you hold onto this for now?" he suggested. "You can give it back to him when we find him. In the meantime, we'll find another way for you to help us…"

"No, wait." Peter nearly stumbled forward so that he was standing directly in front of Steve. "You… you have to let me help find him…. I… I can help, I swear…. _You_ wanted my help. If you just _listen_ to me…"

"This isn't just about what could happen to you, Peter," Steve said, his voice patient yet firm. Resolute. "This is also about Tony, and what Hydra could have in mind for him. If something happens to you, it wouldn't be good for either of you. So for both of you, I'm pulling you from the search itself."

His tone made it clear that there was no room left for discussion. That was it. The Captain wasn't going to take him seriously anymore. He didn't think he could handle his own against the criminal organization. He didn't think he could help find the billionaire.

And maybe he was right. Maybe he wasn't cut out for this team. What if the android had managed to do more damage to his friends, or even his aunt? What if he hadn't been able to stop it? What if he only messed things up as they looked for Tony? Like he had so far?

Maybe he wasn't made for this, after all…

But then, the teen's brow furrowed. There was still a piece of this puzzle that wasn't really fitting neatly in his mind. "Hey, what about…"

But he stopped when the Super Soldier's phone vibrated with a text, and he gave Peter an apologetic look before he checked it. His face darkened as he read it over.

The hair on the back of the teen's neck stood on end. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

Steve sighed as he slipped the small flip phone back in his pocket. "It's Barton," he answered, though his tone betrayed nothing. "I've gotta head back downstairs." He met his younger companion's gaze with a sigh. "I really am sorry, Peter. But I had no choice. I know how much Tony means to you, and I hope that you can understand why this has to be done. There will be other ways you can help us, I promise. Because I would still appreciate your help. We'll discuss that soon, along with more about who's in charge of taking Tony so you understand what we're facing. I feel it's only right that you should be informed about what we're dealing with."

"O-okay… yeah…" Peter swallowed hard, blinking against more traitorous tears that threatened to rise to his eyes. HE tried to smile, even though he felt completely opposite. "Th-that's fine…"

The Captain's gaze wavered. A flicker of what appeared to be sympathy flashed across his face, and he opened his mouth to say something before seeming to think better of it. He nodded instead before he turned and headed back to the elevator to head down to the medical bay.

The web-slinger watched him until the doors slid closed behind him. He then turned back to the couch, grabbing a pillow and throwing it across the room as a frustrated cry broke through his lips. He tried focusing on his breathing, attempting to take slow, even breaths as he brought a shaking hand to his head.

He couldn't just sit and not help find Tony, no matter what Steve said. He just _couldn't_. He'd already lost someone who was important to him because he hadn't been able to do anything. There was no way he could let that happen again. No matter what. He had these powers for a reason. He had to believe that, he had to use them. He had to believe that he'd been granted a second chance with his suit after Tony had tried to take it from him. What did those things even matter if he couldn't use them to find his mentor? To be a part of the team he'd always dreamed of being a part of?

Peter slowly lowered his hand, turning to face the expansive windows at the brightly lit city far below. Something from the conversation he'd overheard between Steve and some of the rogue Avengers when he'd called the Super Soldier about the android resurfaced in his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling that this detail that had yet to fall into place was important in some big way.

 _Fennhoff._

The name he'd heard Steve say to the others when the emergency situation had come up with Clint. Which he had no doubt was connected to what had happened to him and Tony. He'd asked if what had gone down had had to do with this Fennhoff person…

It couldn't be a coincidence that someone with that same name had showed up at his school so shortly after the attack down at the ferry port. And it wasn't like Fennhoff was a common last name. The chances of there being two different Fennhoffs in such close proximity in such closely related incidents was highly unlikely. Almost impossible, if he were willing to bet on it. There _had_ to be a connection there.

Although… Peter frowned, shaking his head slightly. While his temporary school psychologist had always come across to him as creepy and had his every sense on high alert, he had trouble seeing him as being responsible for the sort of destruction at the harbor, for what had happened to Clint. By all appearances, he was a harmless old man.

But if he had androids to do his dirty work… like the one that'd been following him, the two that had attacked Rhodey, and potentially the one that could have nearly killed the archer…

He should have told Steve his concerns about his psychologist. That maybe he was the Fennhoff they were looking for… But he'd been so thrown off guard by what the Captain had wanted to talk to him about, by being pulled from the search for his mentor, and Steve himself had seemed scattered and shaken, even if he wasn't willing to show it, about all that had happened with Clint that it just hadn't seemed to be a good time. He could mention it whenever they continued their conversation…

The teen couldn't stop the smile from appearing on his face. He'd be going back to school the next day after classes had been cancelled for Tony's supposed funeral. He'd be having his next appointment with Fennhoff.

If he could trap him somehow… if he could get something out of him that would link him to what happened on that rooftop…

The billionaire hadn't believed that he could handle the responsibilities of what being an Avenger entailed after taking a chance in letting him do so. Just like Steve didn't now since he only saw him as a kid.

But if he could bring him some sort of proof that linked the school's interim psychologist to all that was happening, to _Hydra_ , the Captain would have no choice but to allow him to help. To let him be a member of this team…

Peter's heart leapt. He glanced down at Tony's watch he still held, carefully tightening his hold around it. He could do this. He knew he could.

 _Don't worry, Mr. Stark. I'll help find you. I'll get to the bottom of this. Just hold on._

* * *

Steve stepped out of the elevator to see everyone pressed up against the glass of the observation window, most with pale faces and clear concern in their features. Wanda was leaning into Vision's side, silent tears trailing down her cheeks. Scott stood close beside them, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. Pepper stood straight and still with a hand covering her mouth, Happy next to her with a grim look on his face and an arm draped over her shoulders. Natasha trembled slightly, her hands curled into fists so tight that her knuckles were white as she blinked furiously to keep any unwanted tears at bay. Rhodey's brow was furrowed as he kept a secure hold on both of her shoulders. Behind them stood Fury, his arms crossed voer his chest and his eye staring intently ahead.

"Come on, Barton…" he whispered. "Don't do this."

The Captain's gaze faltered as he walked forward to join them, stopping beside the director. "I got here as quickly as I could," he muttered. "Is he…?"

Fury's lips pressed into a thin, stern line. He shook his head briefly.

Steve's heart sank as he turned to the window himself, seeing that the machines Clint was hooked up to were setting off alarms, signaling that he had flatlined. His hand curled into a fist as he clenched his jaw tightly. They'd already been made to believe that they'd lost one of their teammates, and still very well might if they couldn't find him in time. To lose another now…

"You can do it, Barton."

Natasha kept her gaze on Clint's deathly pale, eerily blank face, only looking away when the sight was obscured by more tears. She then decided to instead watch Sam and Helen as they frantically worked to revive the archer. "You promised," she murmured, her words directed toward the former. "You promised you wouldn't let him die on your watch. You promised…"

Rhodey tightened his hold on the assassin's shoulders. Steve sighed as he reached out and set a gentle hand on her tense back. "Has his family been alerted?" the latter asked quietly.

"I called Laura," Natasha answered just as softly. There was the slightest catch to her voice that the Captain's enhanced hearing caught. "She said that she and the kids were going to fly in as soon as possible. She wants to be here… either way." She paused, taking a deep breath. "I'd hoped that if things went south, he'd… he'd wait until…"

"It's all right, Nat," the Colonel muttered, pulling her a little closer. His gaze saddened when she didn't resist like she normally may have. "We're all here for you, and for Barton and his family."

"We are," Steve agreed. "I'm not giving up on him yet."

A moment passed before Natasha set one slightly shaking hand on top of Rhodey's. She reached behind her with her other, searching for the Super Soldier's hand and wrapping her slender fingers around his tightly when he held it out for her.

She couldn't lose Clint… she just _couldn't_ …

Fury's gaze faltered as he watched her attempting to hold herself together, admiring how she was doing so when he knew how much Clint meant to her. He remembered when the archer had first brought her back to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters after he'd been given strict orders to kill her since she was too much of a threat to keep alive. He'd been irate, though he'd understood. Coulson had made a similar call when it had been Clint on the opposite side of the law, and just as he'd trusted the other agent, he'd also trusted the archer.

And Natasha had proven herself trustworthy in time. After all, she'd been a large reason why Clint had returned to them alive after they'd both been captured and tortured by Fennhoff. He'd owed her that much. Since that day, Natasha had been attached to the archer, always claiming she owed him a debt. But he'd always been able to see that it was more than that, even if she had never wanted to acknowledge it.

Sighing, Fury reached out and set a secure, supportive hand on the back of the assassin's neck. He felt her lean back a little into his touch. It was the slight action that let him know just how scared she actually was.

Then, Natasha's breath caught in her chest as she took a tiny step forward, her damp eyes set ahead of her intently. Steve followed her, his gaze set on Clint's vitals. Movement. Small but traceable. There was life. His heart was beating again.

The tension seemed to ease out of everyone gathered as sighs of relief passed through them. Sam and Helen visibly relaxed before they each continued to staunch the blood flow in his chest and leg. The former glanced up, his tired gaze landing on where Natasha stood. He nodded once with the slightest hint of a smile. Mouthed something.

 _Not on my watch._

Natasha smiled slightly despite herself, shaking her head a little. "You son of a bitch, Barton…" she murmured. "Hang in there…"

Fury allowed himself to take a deep breath, stepping back a bit. He rested a hand on Steve's shoulder. "How'd the kid take being pulled from the search?" he asked.

Steve met his gaze. "About as well as can be expected," he answered quietly. "So not well."

"Well, we can keep an eye on him," the director muttered. "Rhodes mentioned that there's a tracker in the suit that Stark made for him."

"I don't know how that'll help if he can't wear the suit," the Captain mused, his brow furrowed. "With how Fennhoff's targeting him, making him look guilty, that'd be dangerous."

Fury arched an eyebrow. "You really think that's going to stop him if he's _that_ determined to find Stark, Captain?" he wondered. When the other man couldn't quite suppress a smirk, he sighed. "There's also a tracker in his backpack. Rhodes and the security guard put it there after he left it in an alley too long."

"That's good to know." Steve crossed his arms, shaking his head slightly. "Kid's smart, but he's too emotionally invested in this. It's perfect for Fennhoff. He's already shown an interest in him."

The director nodded in agreement. _Fennhoff_. That man, no matter which alias he'd gone under over the years, had caused him a hell of a lot of headache. He was more than ready to be done with it all. "Then we'll just have to make sure he never reaches the kid."

"Yeah." The Super Soldier's gaze faltered as he glanced back at the elevator. "For both him and Tony."

* * *

 _"Hello, Sergeant Barnes."_

 _Pain… so much pain…_

 _He looked down at his left shoulder, where most of the blazing, blinding agony was emanating from, spreading through the whole left side of his body, his neck, his head…_

 _… his arm wasn't there…_

 _… crimson stained the vivid white of the snow around him…_

 _… rough hands dragged him through the snow… he didn't have the strength to resist, to scream…_

 _… the last thing he remembered… hanging from a train… a hand reaching for him… Steve… he fell…_

 _… his whole body was trembling… from cold or from shock, he couldn't tell…_

 _… how was he alive?... he shouldn't be…_

 _… so cold… so much pain… numbness started to settle in… his vision faded in and out, his mind shut down… he let the darkness take him…_

 _… a wrinkled, almost kind, smiling face appeared before his… a tender hand set lightly on the side of his head… a comfort among all the fear, the pain, the uncertainty… a promise of hope, of healing… he clung to it…_

 _"Once he has recovered, stronger than ever, he will be perfect."_

 _"You have no need to fear, Sergeant Barnes."_

 _… his arm had returned… at least sort of… he slowly curled the metallic fingers into a fist… there was strength there that he had never had before… it would take some time to adjust… the pain had faded some time ago, like a distant memory…_

 _… now there was only power…_

 _"The serum has worked well. But it is not what I need. It lacks what Erskine's had. That is what I need. Zola has fallen short."_

 _… Hydra…_

 _"But he has his uses. He will still be valuable to us."_

 _… no… he couldn't help these people… he couldn't do what they wanted, he wouldn't… he'd fought a war against these people…_

 _… with Steve…_

 _… Steve…_

 _… he easily knocked a few Hydra agents out of his way in his rage… a couple wouldn't be getting up again…_

 _"He still remembers too much. We cannot control him!"_

 _… he aimed a punch at that wrinkled face, once so kind and full of promises of help, or rescue, not lined with eerie malice…_

 _… time seemed to slow when his flesh fist was caught… his heart nearly stopped as his eyes widened in fear… he couldn't move, even as a second wrinkled hand tenderly brushed against his cheek… not possible…_

 _"I can."_

 _… more agony… the current surged through every corner of his skull, his brain, eroding all the information and all of the memories, the good and the bad, kept there…_

 _… he struggled, he resisted… still able to see a friendly, familiar face there…_

 _… Steve…_

 _… don't leave me…_

 _"I'm impressed you have resisted me for as long as you have, Sergeant Barnes. I commend you for your effort. You are stronger than I anticipated."_

 _… a sharp pain pierced his temple, causing him to cry out…_

 _"But you can only fight me for so long, soldier."_

 _… The old man wrote in a red journal… one with a black star on its cover… he spoke the words he'd written to him, each one echoing like a drumbeat through his mind…_

 _… Steve…_

 _… please…_

 _"Let us try these words. They should keep him… under control. And he shall do whatever you desire. If not, repeat the process."_

 _"Soldier?"_

 _… His own voice wasn't even recognizable to him anymore…. It didn't belong to him…_

 _… nothing did…_

 _"Ready to comply."_

 _… That wrinkled face… that kind expression… darkened as it loomed before him…_

 _"… Howard Stark."_

Bucky gasped quietly, running a slow hand down his face as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Since he'd taken refuge in Wakanda after what had gone down in Siberia at T'Challa's insistence, and after he had been taken off of cryo freeze, the princess of the reclusive nation… Shuri, he remembered her name was… had been working extensively with him. She'd believed there was a way to remove all the long years of conditioning that Hydra… that Fennhoff… had worked so hard to instill in him. He hadn't believed her at first. The conditioning had been a part of him… he hadn't been able to trust his own mind… for so long that he couldn't remember, at least not much, of what his life had been like before it.

The sessions with Shuri had been long, but to his surprise, had yielded results. Her methods and the technology used– tech that she'd invented herself, he was in awe of everything that she showed and explained to him– were so different than what Hydra had done to put everything into his head, and everything after to keep him controlled, to begin with. With the criminal organization, it had only been pain. Agony. Fear. All used to force him to comply.

With the princess, on the other hand, he had felt none of that. A little uncertainty at the start, but he'd quickly learned there'd been no need for it. Shuri's methods to remove the conditioning had been gentle, easing into his mind and soothing little bits at a time. Cleansing rather than scrambling or controlling. Mending instead of taking. As she'd worked, it'd felt as though some sort of toxin or disease had been flushed from his body.

For the first time in he couldn't remember how long, he could say he felt… _good._ His mind was finally his own again. The world around him looked different, a little brighter maybe. He could breathe. Every movement, every thought, every emotion was his and only his. Everything about him belonged to him again. He'd be forever grateful to her for bringing him back, as it was a freedom he wasn't sure he'd ever experience again.

Though her efforts were a double-edged sword. Along with every corner of his mind becoming his again also came the memories. He'd always known every face of every person he'd ever killed. He remembered all of them, the look in their eyes as he claimed their lives seared into his mind. They haunted him, either while awake or asleep so he could never escape their silent accusations. Sure he'd had no choice, despite how a quiet part of him buried in the back of his mind had always tried to resist and rebel against what Hydra had wanted. Despite the mind control, the blame would always remain with him. He'd still done all of the terrible things they'd made him do.

But with the barriers in his brain being broken down, the dam that kept all the memories he'd tried to repress and keep hidden had also crumbled. He'd spent many long nights unable to sleep or plagued by nightmares after Shuri had begun her sessions with him as lost trauma after lost trauma had been dredged up by his subconscious. As he'd relieved it all. Memories of his first round of torture when his regiment had been taken by Hydra, how he hadn't allowed himself to be broken no matter what experiments they'd run on him. The fears that Steve– suddenly not small and sickly like he'd always known him– rescuing him from that living hell had only been a fever dream. The fall from the train. His so-called rescue and further torture by Hydra, the wish that the fall had just claimed his life instead of him being used as nothing more than a weapon, a tool, for the criminal organization to use however they wished. It would have been far more merciful. All the pain, all the fear, all the agony as they ripped the memories, the pieces of himself, from his mind and stuffed words and false ideas back in to keep him controlled. To take away all that had been left of him. The feeling of how his strength to resist had deteriorated during that time, how he'd slowly forgotten anything or anyone he'd ever loved, how he'd surrendered control of himself.

He remembered all of it. There had been good reason he'd been so desperate to forget.

But he also remembered Fennhoff.

Bucky's brow furrowed as he gazed up at the light layer of clouds forming in the mid-morning sun. He didn't remember exactly everything about the Hydra agent Steve had Skyped him to ask about, which surprised, as well as frustrated, him a little. As he'd told the Captain, the doctor had been in charge of his conditioning, at least with the methods used. He'd taken his life from him, piece by piece, memory by memory, and thought by thought. He'd implemented the words to control him. But he'd usually been more behind the scenes through it all. He hadn't seen too much of Fennhoff himself with as much as he'd been involved in the Winter Soldier program, not like he'd seen so much of Zola in the early stages, or when he'd seen Pierce almost all the time later on, as he'd been in charge of handling him.

The ex-assassin also recalled the doctor's fascination with the Super Soldier serum that Erskine had invented, that Steve had been given, that had almost bordered on obsession. He'd had to know everything about it, the intricacies of how it worked, and his frustration when Zola or others couldn't quite get it right. There were also little flickers of ideas that Fennhoff had had some kind of connection to the original serum itself, and to Schmidt, but he knew those couldn't be right. Fennhoff couldn't be _that_ old.

There had also been an incident that had happened between the mad doctor and Captain America that he could remember vividly. Not the specifics, other than what his best friend had told him after the fact, or why Steve had gotten mixed up with Fennhoff, but he could call to mind the reactions of the other Hydra agents when they'd believed the old man had been lost at the hands of the Super Soldier. It hadn't been too much later that the organization had fallen after they'd been exposed by Natasha Romanoff.

His light gaze flickered ever so slightly before he brought his focus back to where it needed to be.

He'd been surprised to hear that name after so long– _Fennhoff_ – even more so when Steve had told him that the doctor was responsible for what had happened to Tony Stark. It was a name that he'd hoped he could have forgotten about, that he'd wanted to forget about, since he'd believed the old man was no longer a concern just as the other Hydra agents had. There had almost been a… relief underneath the outrage by those around him that one of their high-ranking agents had fallen. After all, even Fennhoff's peers had been intimidated and unsettled by him to a degree. He recalled looking at all of the files, all of the deceased or MIA reports the doctor had accumulated over the years, even though he always seemed to show up again. Fennhoff was more a ghost story than even he had been as the Winter Soldier.

With all the history the head Hydra agent had with Steve, Bucky had to admit that he was confused about why Tony had been the target of his reemergence. His fascination with the spider kid didn't, however; as he'd told the Captain, Fennhoff had never left any loose ends, and he wouldn't hesitate to use the people closest to the billionaire to get what he wanted. And from what he recalled of their brief encounter in Germany, there was some sort of relationship between Tony and the kid. Easy target for the old man to get his hooked fingers into and exploit for his own gain.

Despite having been on opposite sides involving the Accords and on other matters, the ex-assassin had been able to tell that the spider boy was a good kid. He truly hoped that he didn't wind up getting mixed up in Fennhoff's game. And he hoped that Tony could be found soon, before he suffered any damage that couldn't be undone. He'd seen far too many people fall victim to the mad doctor and never be the same.

But Tony…

Bucky sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. What would Fennhoff want with Tony Stark? To join Hydra, sure. It was a possibility. But a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, something he couldn't quite reach, told him that it was more than that. Fennhoff wouldn't have been in charge of a simple recruitment mission, even if Hydra itself was on its deathbed. He would view it as beneath him, not worth his time and energy. If he wanted the billionaire in the organization, he had to have a very specific reason, some grander goal in mind. Or he had some other reason for wanting Tony broken.

He'd been racking his brain for any possible reason why Tony could have been taken, or where he could have been, ever since his last chat with Steve. It was a question that had been bothering him since his friend had asked it since he felt as though it was one he should know the answer to. After all, out of all of them, he knew Fennhoff the best. If anyone could figure out his motives or whereabouts, it should be him.

But Tony…

He sighed. Steve had seemed so determined, maybe even almost desperate, to find the billionaire when they'd talked. He couldn't blame him. Tony had been his friend, despite what had happened in Siberia, like Howard had been before him, and they had to hurry if they wanted to bring the man home intact. Bucky glanced down at his wrapped left shoulder, all that was left of where that metallic arm that Hydra had given him to turn him into a walking weapon had been. He was glad to be rid of it. It was freeing. While the blame, the guilt, still remained, the reminder of all that he'd done was gone. He couldn't hurt anyone anymore, not like he'd used to, anyway.

But he also couldn't help.

The ex-assassin's gaze faltered. Even if he could help Steve and the others find Tony, he knew the billionaire likely wouldn't have wanted his aid. Not after Siberia. Not when he was the reason his parents were dead. Not when Steve unwisely chose him.

It was something he didn't expect or deserve Tony's forgiveness for. But he still didn't want the other man to suffer at Fennhoff's hands. No one deserved that.

Which was why he could still try to help Steve from here, far away in Wakanda. There was something locked deep in his memory, he was certain of it, that would reveal some answers to many of the questions they all had. There had to be. Fennhoff's fascination with the serum, his fixation on Howard, the connection to Tony… it was all there. It _had_ to be.

Howard Stark was the key to solving a big chunk of this puzzle, the means to win Fennhoff's twisted game, he was sure of it.

If only he could remember…

* * *

 _"… Tony…"_

 _… Dad…? Is that you…?_

 _"… Tony…"_

 _… Dad… wait, please…_

A bitter cold had started to settle deep into his very bones. His body trembled slightly as he fought to keep his eyes closed. Unconsciousness had been kind, much more so than reality. He hadn't had to be faced with the small, cramped room he'd been kept in, or the crazy old doctor who wanted him to join him, or his cosplaying buddies, or… or…

… Oh, God, Clint… Clint was dead… dead, all because he'd been looking for him…

 _… his fault his fault his fault his fault his…_

He struggled instead to cling to the all-too fleeting visage of his father. Stern. Proud. But at least clear of the blood and bruises that had been haunting him. At least that…

But why he was trying to hold onto Howard so relentlessly, he wasn't sure. _Something_ … there was _some_ reason… his father had played an important role in all of this, Fennhoff had certainly been talking about him enough…

But what…?

 _… Dad, wait… tell me why… this is happening… please…_

Howard vanished.

A particularly violent shiver caused Tony's eyes to snap open with a gasp. He slowly rolled over onto his side and pushed himself up on his arm with a wince, his stiff, bruised, and beaten body protesting to the movement, before he ran a weak, shaking hand down his face. He then cautiously glanced around him to get a bearing of his surroundings… and froze.

No… It wasn't possible… why would he be…?

The doctor's gaze. It had to be. Fennhoff was crazy, but there was no way he would actually bring him all the way out _here_ …

… Right?

Another cold breeze rushed past him, causing more snow to blow into the abandoned facility to add to what he was already lying in. His wide, hazel eyes slowly moved up the snowy hill beside him, passing over the wide metallic grates high above his head…

 _It's the gas… it's the gas… it's… the…_

Something in the corner of the room caught his attention. Something out of place. Tony shakily pushed himself to his knees, gritting his teeth against the pain, and took a moment to catch his breath before he slowly made his way toward it.

The old-fashioned computer monitor remained blank until he got closer. He paused with surprise when the dark screen suddenly flickered to life, revealing a grainy, black and white security video feed.

A cold deeper and more chilling than the snow and harsh wind around him filled his heart.

 _That road…_ he _knew_ that road…

Tony swallowed hard, the action hurting his severely dry throat, as he struggled to close his eyes, to turn away, though he was unable to do either. His gaze was fixated to that screen… to that fateful damned road…

He had no need to read the date in the upper right-hand corner. He could recite it in his sleep.

 _16 December. 1991._

 **Author's Note** : And here we go! There's a lot in here that's going to be important as we continue. What's the tie to Howard? To December 16 1991? To the serum? What's Fennhoff up to? We'll find out! Thanks for reading guys! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you! See you next time!


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